Came to me tonight after a meeting with friends today. Anyone ever react to compliments from others with fear - as if by putting yourself out there, it’s just a matter of time before you fail?
words into a sentence,
just one line,
a phrase stuck in my head
repeating, circling,
growing louder and louder
until my mind insists:
Write. It. Down.
And once written,
the gate opens.
Sometimes I come upon a photograph
and save it -
save it for the day I lift a brush
and remember how to begin again.
Once, photographs claimed my mind,
consumed my days and nights,
visions of what could be
never relenting
until the canvas
finally carried
my interpretation.
Months ago I read a prescription -
one for America -
and understood it needed filling,
not just for me,
but for those like me:
the ones lost and afraid
as the darkness began to descend.
“If you build it, they will come.”
And come they did.
New friends for me,
and more. Community building.
I have been called a poet,
an artist, a leader -
but I am an imposter.
The words, the paintings,
the work of gathering people -
these are not born from me
but gifted to me,
God urging me to fully live
instead of shriveling
into nothingness.
Poetry by Melinda K Zarate
Read 24 times
Written on 2025-11-15 at 06:07
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What Moves Through Me
One by one they line up -words into a sentence,
just one line,
a phrase stuck in my head
repeating, circling,
growing louder and louder
until my mind insists:
Write. It. Down.
And once written,
the gate opens.
Sometimes I come upon a photograph
and save it -
save it for the day I lift a brush
and remember how to begin again.
Once, photographs claimed my mind,
consumed my days and nights,
visions of what could be
never relenting
until the canvas
finally carried
my interpretation.
Months ago I read a prescription -
one for America -
and understood it needed filling,
not just for me,
but for those like me:
the ones lost and afraid
as the darkness began to descend.
“If you build it, they will come.”
And come they did.
New friends for me,
and more. Community building.
I have been called a poet,
an artist, a leader -
but I am an imposter.
The words, the paintings,
the work of gathering people -
these are not born from me
but gifted to me,
God urging me to fully live
instead of shriveling
into nothingness.
Poetry by Melinda K Zarate
Read 24 times
Written on 2025-11-15 at 06:07
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
