One of my favourite things about fruit is that is just grows.  The plant it grows on doesn’ttryto grow it, and it doesn’ttryto get grown - it just grows.  

I just said so in the Cover Letter I submitted along with three of my poems to Boulevard’s Emerging Poets Contest. 

I said I would write.  Making myself a woman of my word feels so good!

Wake.
Live Well. [Move, Write, Eat, Breathe, Read, Dance, Speak, Seek, Find, etc.]
Sleep.

Repeat as necessary.

Speaking louder than words is hard work.

Today, I saw a truck with So-and-So’s (it didn’t actually say that…I can’t remember the name) Tree Service printed on the side.  Along with the truck there was also a wood chipper.  I quickly realized that this was not, in fact, a tree service at all, instead a service for getting rid of trees.  The words say, “Happy, trees!” but the actions say, “Run, trees, run!”  If only this were possible. 

I call myself a writer.  I have mentally tattooed it all over myself.  I am working on making my actions speak the same thing as my words, except even louder.  Today, my efforts have been met with a measure of success. 

Did you hear me say it?  “I am a Writer!”  Just wait, you’ll see.

Slow.
Hold on.
Be strong(er).

When you feel you have come to the end of your rope,
don’t use the vestiges of your strength to let go or lower yourself to the ground.
Instead, have faith that some new strength is waiting beyond the one you know now. 

Endure.