I was going through my old blog entries (from an older blog that I haven’t taken down yet) and found a post dated December 16, 2003 that said:
Maybe a germ of a poem, I’m going to let it rest for awhile until I decide what to do with this:
“I’ve slept on so many stairs that I know where they all go; where they will lead us to. Everything in this world is up or down, anyway. The answer to that question is easy. The harder question is what I was doing there? I was waiting for love to begin. It can’t be found in staircases but it might be found at the end of the steps.”
I find it interesting. I think I can turn that into a poem. I like the imagery of sleeping on staircases and being caught between entrances and exits. I wonder how this poem came about and if I really spent time in a staircase, which might have been possible back in 2003.
There’s a poem there and I can ruminate on it further. I said I will let it rest for awhile and it’s twelve years later before I sit down and work on this.
This will be an interesting exercise, especially since I am so different from the person I was twelve years ago. I wonder what of my experiences since will lead me into turning this into a real poem and how I will find a way to deepen the thoughts already present.
Like a gift from the past, I accept it with open arms. The image is there. The underlying thought is present. Now, I just have to bring it home.