Just a Little Something About Writing

By Chaikie Travis

Do I use a pen on paper in the journal, the notebook I keep writing in, sometimes feverishly
And that sometimes sits on my shelf for months at a time
The tried and true and faithful that is a continuation of a story I started and stopped telling
mid-sentence
Returning to the warmth and already tried on words and pages
To pick it up again like we had never left

Do I start fresh with a new notebook, a new pen
Hoping the fresh and new brings with it something new,
New like the breeze that’s a breath of fresh air, meant to invigorate and inspire
Or new like the light of the dawn, slowly coming up over the horizon, quiet and deep
Filled with hope and longing and possibilities

What of my handwriting, sometimes sharp and pressured and sometimes looping and fast
and incoherent and unreadable to anyone including myself
Does it count as writing if I can’t read it
Or if it doesn’t follow any rhyme or reason or rhythm or cadence, if it doesn’t tell you or me anything

Unopened
Uninspired
Unwilling to commit
The thoughts and impressions and images in my mind
Into salient coherent thought
And then into words strung together dancing on the lines of a page
I want to make it make sense
But why and to whom
And what if I can’t
Can’t make it make sense to me or to you or to some future me and/or future you

What if I use my phone or computer
Easy to read and easy to erase and edit
All done and redone with the quick clacking sound of my fingers on the keyboard
But what if that censors my stream of consciousness and I still and stifle my own voice

So in a bid for perfection and getting the words just right
I sit with pen and paper by my side and my fingers ready to fly across the keyboard
And I write
Nothing

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