Life Will Never Be the Same

My daughter worries about me. She worries when I write and drive. Like yesterday when I was driving her to work. Well, when I’m driving, I’m not just driving. I’m thinking. A lot. One of my weird writing things is that I come up with some of my best ideas when I’m driving, when I’m mowing the lawn, when I’m jogging, and when I’m doing anything…other than writing.

The best way to deal with writer’s block, for me, is to get busy doing something. Anything. And while I’m doing that other thing, I usually come up with something. So, yesterday, while I was driving, I started thinking about this line that had come to me a few days ago. Life will never be the same…I knew I wanted to do something with that line, but I wasn’t sure what direction I wanted to go in.

Then, it started to come to me while I was driving. Since my daughter worries, I pulled over and let her drive. That way, I reasoned, I could write without having to balance my notebook on the steering wheel. I’m a responsible driver, right? Only once I got on the passenger side, there was nothing there. My ideas dried up like the rain when the sun comes out.

This is what I have so far, though:

Life can never be the same,
not since the day I heard you
say my name, the way you
held the letters of my name
on your tongue like they were
ice cubes you chose to hold
in your mouth, instead of to bite.

Life can never be the same,
not after you held my hand
like the string of a kite
you refused to release, afraid
of where it might end up.

Life can never be the same,
since hearing my name fall
from your lips; it transformed me,
made me believe
that the collision of souls
can lead to the building of
something real. That somehow
dreams can come true.

I witnessed the unfurling
of our souls, though hesitation
tried to intervene as we witnessed
the melding together of two souls
that had always been searching for
each other, and I knew as love
braided our souls together
life could never be the

Peace & Love,


About Rosalind Guy

I'm broken & my soul is weary/ my weary soul rebels, fights/ anything & anyone who tries to heal me/I beat my head against a wall of memories/ trying hard to break free from the chain of memories/ I can only be free by saying it so/ i weave a necklace from words and finally/ I find freedom/ free free free. As you can see, words are powerful to me. As Maya Angelou said, words are wallpaper of the soul. I have lots of nightmarish memories that threaten to break me, but I learned a long time ago about the power of words. They can be used to heal and destroy anything that threatens to destroy the person. Words coupled with love have the power to save and heal. I am author of three books: Skinny Dipping in the Pool of Womanhood, Tattered Butterfly Wings, and Blues of a Love Junkie. I am a high school English teacher. I am a former reporter. I am a mother. I am a woman. I am a fierce advocate for those who cannot speak for themselves, those who's voices go unheard. Check out my Amazon author page at the following link:
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