I never know where inspiration -- or ideas for a story/poem/essay -- comes from. Usually when I least expect it, an idea grabs hold of gray cells and won't let go until I face it.
So it was the other night when I was driving home from Jim Minick's poetry reading (see earlier post). I was deeply moved by his oral stories and poems about his aunt who has passed away. How lucky he was to know her. This got me to thinking about my dear relatives who have also passed.
Missing my aunt, who was my second mother, led to me to finish an essay called The Gift. I polished it and submitted it to a writing contest. That wasn't enough to calm the twitchy gray cells, however.
Now, I don't believe in automatic writing, but I do believe in channeling people's feelings and thoughts. I couldn't get my dear mother out of my mind. I began writing what I thought would be another essay. Right now, it looks more like free verse. Funny, neither my mother nor I like poetry all that much. I don't know why the feelings came out in poetic form. Maybe because I wanted to keep the words sparse. Tell the story with the least amount of words possible. Maybe I was too tired and lazy to form complete sentences for an essay. Maybe it came out the only way I could handle it.
At any rate, I can thank Jim Minick for stirring up emotions that have, thus far, manifested themselves in a poem.
Wonder where my next inspiration will come from.