sometimes the well is dry

My well is dry.  I dont’ find myself talking all that much these days.  It’s not that I dont’ have much to say.  I’m just not ready to speak them yet.

I’m tired of looking for jobs.  I’m tired of delivering pizza.  I’m tired of living on a shoe string.  I’m tired of not taking care of myself.  I’m tired.

My words are just below the surface.  I know that I can speak, I’m trying to give myself the grace and space not to say them.

I know I’m speaking now.  I’m talking about saying things that really matter.

Grace and Space.  Peace and quiet.  Trees and chipmonks.  Rain drops on my nose.  Moss stained sidewalks.  Breath in my lungs.

If I keep breathing deeply the words will come. If I keep breathing deeply my muscles won’t ache as badly.  If I keep breathing deeply I will find myself in rest.

Ah, to feel rested.  Some day.

Thanks for stopping by.  Be uncommon.