I love ideas. I could eat, sleep, breathe, dream ideas. I wish I could make a living just coming up with ideas. Of course, if I did, the source of them would probably dry up and I’d run out of money, but I can dream, can’t I?

I have lots of ideas right now. Poems, articles, projects, books, freelance stuff, workshops, websites – you name it. I don’t know if it’s the season – awaiting the coming of Spring – but for some reason, my mind seems full of stuff I’d like to try.

If only I had the time. And the opportunity. I love my life, but sometimes it’s a little frustrating – being so tied to routine and practicality. I have to go to work every day. I have to be an involved mom and wife. I have to participate in cleaning the house, paying the bills, doing the laundry, making sure there’s food to eat… in between, there’s so little time to let ideas take root.

Someday, there will be more time again. Someday, I will quit my job and attempt to be a freelance writer and consultant. Some day…

With child

I’m staring at the white page
pregnant with ideas
waiting for birth
feeling the labour pains before they come
yet longing to see the child emerge
longing to introduce her to the world
longing to breath deep the scent of her
longing to hold her and watch her grow

I want to find a cocoon
of space and time
to settle into birthing
to let these ideas take shape

But there are so many things
life, motherhood, a paying job
that get in the way
that stop me from retreating
into that cocoon
to wait for metamorphosis

These unformed offspring
wrestle within me
fighting for their right to life
fighting to be heard
and seen and touched

They have no choice
but to await
another season, another time
I will remain an expectant mother
hopeful they do not die
before their chance at life

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