Writing Mantra

This body expects to know
what it wants to know
before it delivers its first blow
to the blank, expectant page.

This body holds fear
it will not know
what it wants, or needs, to say.
Fear, it will be wordless, stilted, confused,
unintelligent.

This body expects much.
It does not tolerate
poor quality, low quantity.
It worships perfection
on first attempts.

But, for now,
my body exudes
the impatient anticipation
of an anthropologist
excavating ancient tombs
for the first time.

But, for now,
my body bring compassion
to its well-worn fear. Kindness,
to its lofty expectations.
Openness, to its teachings.

But, for now,
my body radiates desire
for imperfection
and messy first drafts.
Listening and waiting,
for words to imprint
in spaces void of judgement.

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