Wo/man cannot live on bread alone
And it is passion that drives me,
Passion that fuels me. It is not my body
That propels me up mountains, no.
My body is an obstacle, hauled
Huffing and puffing, tired and sore
Up every inch of that damn mountain.
My will, my passion, my mind encourage me
To climb higher, go farther. Write more.
Always write more. Even when I am ready to collapse,
My hand is curled stiff around my pen, even on the ninth hour
Still more, write more. I am in rapture of language,
Writer’s write always and evermore.
I just thought of this cool book called “On Food and Cooking” and there is this piece in there about how woman literally means kneader of the dough and man means make of the bread…. just connecting to the bread reference. This is gorgeous. I am moved deeply by this. I think exploring your relationship to the “pen” in all its glory could be a really interesting way to go with this.
GREAT WORK ! so excited to keep reading