ABOUT THE STORY

Happy New Year, Fellow Writers and Creatives! Keep Going! How Long Will You Write? FULL TEXT: I will bleed black ink on dead trees until all the weeds, I desired to keep, leave my fingertips and onto freedom papers. Until the vines cease the asphyxiation that I allowed. Until I relinquish the compound leaf that lost its midrib, once dignity leaked out of the petiole. Until I’m no longer ashamed of the joy I feel when passing rustling greens, yellows and auburns. Until the internal ballyhoo of my haiku’s, clinging to the roots of feather pens, finally holler something naked and bold. Until I’m restored, full, set free and full willow-treeing in my phoenix skin. Until my hands shake and my skin wrinkles something wise and ready for old time slumberin’. Until my eyes are tired of watering new plants and seeing new stories to tell. Until my heart decides to retire and my soul yearns for a new beginning, I will bleed black ink on freedom papers.