Here I had arrived back from this wonderful trip from NYC that was supposed to be soul rejuvenating, but left me feeling as if a piece of my soul is missing. I can't seem to get my groove back. So, I was really hoping that going back to a semi-quasi routine would help.
Routines are just that a routine. Seeing my young poets grow each day was wondrous. By the end of the week, reading their work was pure joy.
Then when my friend uttered those words it hit me. I'm in my corner. I decide when I get out of my post NYC funkilicious issues. I decide. I decided what happens next. I decide. Not anyone else. It's not like I didn't know that, but to here the bluntness of it. The underlining stop trying to please others and do something for yourself was also there. I decide. So I decided.
Tulsa is not NYC. It never will be. But pining for a city thousands of miles away is only going to make the soul lonely. I could choose to pine away and forget the rejuvenation or choose to use the muse it was and let my soul fly.
I'm in my corner. Use the things I miss the languages, the culture, the colors and let it be My Muse, feed my soul. I'm in my corner is now what echoes when I begin to feel as if I can't take it another minute. I'm in my corner. The reminder.
My Muse was fed and she was rewarded.
The FarmA new born chick is born!Peep, PeepStacks of hayHorses, cows, ducks,Nay! Moo! Quack!The smell of baconThe taste of eggs (fried).On the groundWatch out the babies are here!By: Third Grade Young Poet