All is well now, although I have had to come to grips with a set-back of my own making. Here is an attempt at poetry to explain my absence. No more details needed…
Hard Drive Not Found
Hundreds of children, locked in the grains of a glimmering silver disk.
A plastic prison, inaccessible forever.
I brought them into the world, the scraps, the snippets, the draft chapters.
I toyed with them, entertained them, nurtured them.
Quotes, verses, hints, ideas, set aside to simmer.
Opening lines.
Inspiration.
All gone.
Think, think! I scream. There must be a way!
Capture them! Bring them back!
Character.
Aura.
Anything.
Finding only darkness.
And an awareness—they existed.
I used to ship the wee ones off to the mainland monthly.
I didn’t trust the airways, you see.
But I danced into the holiday season, a neglectful parent.
NaNoWriMo.
NoMo.
My children.
Do they ache for me the way I ache for them?
“I told you so,” said the world.
The Portrait Writer 