Reflection #WingWritingChallenge Day 4

I have a tendency to overthink things.  I've mentioned that a time or twelve here on this blog. I do it a lot and with everything, unfortunately, although I'm working on it. I'll admit, though, that trying to not think so much about over thinking is - well ... okay, you probably see the point I'm trying to make, right?

I did talk with Ang Lawrence about this topic because in a few days we're to write about 'in the mirror' and I thought it might be redundant. Since I was the one who came up with this challenge, that bothered me a little bit. I'm over it now. We're writers. We're supposed to be creative. That was just me overthinking things again.

I didn't know what I was going to write today until about an hour ago. I kept turning the word reflection over and over in my head. It swirled and bumped around so much that it eventually dislodged an idea.

A couple of months ago I was going through some boxes in my closet. I came across a whole bunch of stuff I'd written a very long time ago. I was really excited about finding it - although it hadn't actually been lost. I knew it was all in there somewhere, even though I hadn't seen it in a good, long while.

I began digging through everything - a bazillion rejection letters for my first novel, The Color of Thunder, half a dozen spiral notebooks filled with my younger scrawl, and a collection of poems and short stories I hadn't looked at in years.

I started to read, eager to see all of these musings and ideas again. There was stuff in there I didn't really remember, things I look forward to playing with in the future. At the rate I'm going, I'll never run out of ideas for books to write.

But I was also reminded of this time in my life - the time where I turned inward and wrote poetry in an attempt to deal with some very dark things. I used writing - specifically poetry - like I used music; as a balm to soothe myself, as a form of self-medication. Much of what I read in the box made me very sad. It brought me back to a place I haven't gone in a long, long time.

I wanted to share one of those poems in my post today. This one isn't dark. A little sad, perhaps, but I'm sure it can be interpreted in a few different ways. I'm not sure I'll ever share the really dark poems. Those might stay buried. I haven't decided yet. This one, however, seemed appropriate because of the title. I'll let you be the judge.

Reflections

The water, so calm

the night, so warm

The stars are on the water

and a cricket’s chirp in the air

A soft breeze, and a breath

A quiet lull in the night

and a sense of loneliness

sits in the air

Soft cattails whisper

in the wind

A soft, cottony dandelion

and a small sigh from the grass

A lightning bug skips over the water

leaving a trail of gold dust

A small hum

then silence

A leaf, like a sailboat

on a journey in the water

A small sail with a crew

of crickets and ladybugs

A rustle in the trees

A noise in the grass

A waterfall over the rocks

and a cold stream on the shore

A reflection of blue eyes,

of strong thoughts

and a smile

play with the water

The moonlight slips through

and there you are

right behind me

in a serious trance

And with a sigh

a gentle breeze

There’s a ripple and a wave

and you’re gone.