Rise and Fall

The great stuff
Rarely just falls
Out of the sky
Into my lap
Onto the page.
It usually rises
Out of my belly
Where anxiety likes to sit,
Rising out of my body
Coaxed out by the mechanical act
Of scribbling thoughts onto paper
Then passing through a gauntlet of self doubt
Like acid reflux in an oesophagus
Painstakingly coming to the surface
To form a working document
Revealing for the first time
What these words that have been swirling
In my head
Like unborn children,
Finally look like.
Great words
Don’t fall-
They rise.

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