As I strike out words back and forth,
The scars on the parchment is the sole witness
To my frustration.
Like a woman in pain and awe
Anticipates the birth of a new life,
I wait for the litany to be set free
From the chains holding her back
In the dungeons of my sub-conscious mind.
I wait for her to come out,
For her to illumine my night to-day.