Dawning Creations

I loved him during a simmering summer’s eve.
I called to him in the cooling Autumn, when time and wanton winds tugged him from my grip.

In the winter, my spirits withered as the snow mounds piled below my window.

Pain was all I knew.

In the spring, I went to my knees, crowing a raspy prayer to the high heavens.

Where was he?

What had I done ?

The next morning, I awoke in mourning.
The birds sang cruelly, songs and sauntered about, flaunting youth and joy.
I was blue and crestfallen, white walls turning grayscale.

Whistling soon began to echo in the hall.
I believed a bird got stuck in my home again.
Grudgingly, I set out of my sheets to set the bird free.

A pale face greeted me atop the spiral staircase.
I fell to my knees, conceiving him to be a sick dream, a figment from an unhealthy mind.

My love held me steadfast.
So many questions fled from my emotionally charged mind as tears ran and ran unwittingly.

I closed my eyes and took in his scent and his hold on me and let it lull me into calmness.

Foolish or not, I could not care.
He was home, not perished, not cross, not wounded.

He was home, while the cruel war still ravaged our country.

About the poem: This poem popped into my head as I was driving home from the store. I was playing Imogen Heap -like most days, and just started feeling words come into my head. I’ve read many times that sometimes writers experience their characters speaking to them or to each other in the writer’s head. It sounds completely mental, especially since I had no character, no plot, and no idea thought up for a poem. I was simply driving home and could hear the person speaking. I pulled into my parking spot on my street and ran inside as quickly as I could to begin writing her story down. It was such a rush finishing her words and a little spooky too. I’ve had this happen before but it’s typically in the form of a flow of words and rhythums. Have any of you experienced this or another kind of different writing experience???