One year ago I called on my courage and put out a blog post for the first time. In days since I’ve noted little phrases or moments of curiosity in amongst mundane day to day living. All the while these curiosities and intrigues simmer and percolate within me, until at some unplanned hour the words form themselves, tumbling and emerging in patterns and rhythms. Poet Wendell Berry writes in one of his works ‘make a poem that does not disturb the silence from which it came’. This is quite the benchmark to live and write by. At times I wish I could dedicate more time to nurturing words as they form. But mostly, as I look back with all things considered, I’m glad I got to write at all, no matter if the words came out imperfect. This seems appropriate really, because this year came out imperfect as well. Life does that. Life comes out imperfect too.

these words come out imperfect
this life does too 
i edit what i can 
what is left will have to do 

i wish i could repeat things 
go over, start anew
but these words come out imperfect
this life does too 

i imagine the finished product
all glossy and ready to review
but these words come out imperfect
this life does too 

these words are muddled and mispronounced
i sometimes miss a few 
these words come out imperfect
this life does too 

this life is more than highlights 
a life ordinary, but true 
these words come out imperfect
this life does too