A Flash of Jazz - Turn It Off

 


(what if Sylvia Plath turned off the gas?)

I turned it off, the gas I mean, and sat on the floor. I couldn't do it, no matter how lost I felt. I stared at my worn hands and wondered if I still had some of that cherry-scented lotion I loved. I wanted to cry and I could feel the tears pressing against my eyes. Instead, I got up, dusted myself off, and removed the tape from the windows and doors. Suddenly, A flurry of poems came to me, ones that I knew had to be shared with the world. With every strip of tape removed, I felt life returning to me. Yes, I wanted to breathe. Yes, I wanted to write. Yes, I knew that I was flawed, just like everyone else. With the last bit of tape removed, I opened a window in the living room and took in the air. The nighttime air that gave rise to such creatives like myself. I frowned; he wouldn't win. I wouldn't let him. I took another deep breath and made my way to my desk to write. I wondered if life was like this for everyone; how one moment of blinking your eyes would change your mind and affect everything that caught in the range of your sight. The words felt delicious as I rolled them around in my mind and then as I whispered them. Yes, I thought to myself, this breath and this one and this one and this one. . . . .

The sun rose. 


Inspiring music - Night Train by the Oscar Peterson Trio 



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