labels

once, i used to write.
i wrote and wrote about my feelings and the happenings of my life. i wrote about people and learning and the weather. i complained.
where did this safe place go to?
i cannot find it! i am searching. digging, peering, turning things over. and yet, it eludes me still.
words used to flow from me like warm summer rain. easy, wanted, cleansing, beautiful.
it is almost as though winter has stopped me up.
even now, pausing, hesitating, pondering.
where is the fire?