Driftwood

Dear Readers,

My friend from Legacy of Leesburg, Estelle, informed me that a new Writing Circle was meeting once a month on the second Monday. Some of the members are from the previous group which I belonged to when I lived in Legacy. They were with me throughout the whole process of writing and publishing my book, "Dreams and Realities: A Memoir of Loss,Love and Resilience." Since we sold our house and moved to another town, I assumed I did not have the right to attend. However, the members of the new group invited me back to the Writing Circle and I have gladly accepted the invitation.  Belonging to a writing group is a great motivation to write. The following poem is what I wrote this past month.

Driftwood

There are days when I experience

an unexpected feeling of sadness

that overpowers the beauty and

excitement of a new day.

I do not plan those moments,

they just happen and bring with them

a sadness that seems to emerge

from place deep inside that causes me

to be silent and retreat

from the presence of others.

I want no conversations,

no need to explain myself or

answer questions for which

I have no responses.

I want to be in solitude, in deep thought,

so I can search within my mind’s maze

to find a cause, a logical reason

for this sadness.

I allow the feeling to exist,

to move from here to there,

and then, once more,

I uncover my truth.

Sweet & sad memories I thought

securely hidden from sight & mind

have emerged, like driftwood that is

moved by the winds and tides

of time and events and washed ashore

where it becomes visible, palpable.

Sometimes, driftwood is collected

and given new life.

Other times, the tides return it to

the deep blue sea where

winds & waves move it from side to side

till it is no longer visible on the horizon.

Perhaps one day my driftwood will

be taken by the tides, winds, and waves

farther and farther into the deep blue sea

and never return.

Perhaps.

                                           Mildred Santiago

02/10/19