Some of you who've been around these parts for some time may remember that I the blog was called "The Collective." In those days, I'd host a smattering of my favorite writers from time to time. It was a fun experiment, one that generated some pretty good content (if I don't say so myself). I've decided to get back to those roots this year.
Please welcome my friend and sister (by choice, not birth) dear Abby Leigh to the blog. Abby is one of the most imaginative writers I know. She sees the world in metaphor, and I'm begging (ahem... begging!) her to write an entire book. This month, Abby's offering is raw, and real, and full. When I first read it, I was spell-bound. No doubt.
Thank you dear Abby Leigh!
Nature v. Mature
if i could shake this off, well, it’d make a hell of a pile. grey hair in short strands, the kind you press to push from your fine black coat and find sticking straight out your socks when you come home again. i roll once more in the mess of it, and come out clean, then close the door fast on the fresh falling fur.
if i could shed this skin, it’d wrap ‘round the room twice. a milk-white pall on the summer color story - it winds tight round table legs and cabinet feet, til the end finds the beginning and swallows up the baseboards while i’m slinking down the stairs.
if i abandon this shell for the next size up, if i muster the courage to race for the sea, if i stretch to the split of my stifling cocoon, if i swim upstream just a few days more . . . i’ll be free. i’ll be bare. i’ll be running for my life. a great migration to reveal what kind of animal i am.