Writing whisps and whispers

I write when the bottom is sinking in again
and the Snafu rises to the surface.
Sometimes writing a poem has the effect of
sucking all the Bad out, and diluting the poison.

I write when the mania has taken control
and after the screams have subsided
or are drowned out by the deep silent sobs
and the shuddering fibers of my thundering heart.

I write when there is no other way to speak
when the words refuse to be dragged
from their pages where they are neatly shelved
hidden shyly behind thoughts and whims.

I write when I am alone, not forgotten
as much as being un-present, invisible at night,
lonely and merely outside of my realm of being
lost and quite unaware of existence.

I write when in a crowded room of laughter and jest
…a make-believe woman far from magical dream scenes,
waiting quietly for something unknown…