I have spent ages trying to carve out an image for myself as a storyteller. To put myself forward as a dynamic creatress, capable, articulate and engaging.
I have manifested an almost exact replica of who I really am. No one would ever know that this is not the real me, unless..unless, they were creating from the void, resourcing back to the nothingness.
Inside me I have a deep well of muted silence.
Mute because I have never given it the space to breath, growl or sigh.
I have been embarrassed by it's clumsiness without ever giving it the chance to do more than stumble.
It is different now. As I grow a baby in my belly I realise that this place I shut down and ignore. is the mulch. It is the fertile soil where all is formed.
I am going to let it out, to draw my pail deep into this well.