I read Ashley Cleveland’s memoir,
“Little Black Sheep”
and felt she was sitting next to me,
telling the story.
So many things she wrote
I heard Ma say,
like how all she could think about
for so many years
was how to get a drink.
“Nobody understands what that’s like,” Ma said.
I would say to Ma,
“You should write that down somewhere,”
but Ma couldn’t commit to paper
stuff she wished wasn’t true about her.
“But if you write it,
someone may read it one day
and feel less alone.”
* * *
I think of all the people
with a story they wish wasn’t true
and how the words in their head,
“Nobody will ever want to read about this”
keep them from writing it.
And I hope they all find a way.
I’m writing from 6 to 8 AM these days and get more done than I did when I had all day. Go figure.