Nurture

Terresa, at the Chocolate Chip Waffle, recently posted a lovely poem, "Recipe for a Perennial Writer".  She then asked readers to describe their own creative processes.  For me, for now, it seems to be akin to  breastfeeding.  Here is my reply, which has been gnawing at me for a week and a half now:

It begins
when an idea approaches,
latches on to my bosom,
and won't let go.

One idea
sucks at my sustenance
until fully formed, blooming.
Another sips, to release, and return.

Nourished by my vocabulary
and experience,
it may begin to take on
my freckles, my cute toes,
my eyesight.
But, like a human child,
it has its own spark,
unique essence.
I only feed and clothe it,
silently, in my mind.

When I dare
to set it down on paper, on a screen,
it looks, at first,
like so much spilt milk
running, clumping, formless.
But if I persevere,
the image that grew in my mind
and my heart,
appears for all to see.

Like my own child,
I hope that my creation
will be noticed, loved, accepted.
When instead
it returns neglected,
rejected,
I welcome it with open arms,
for it is mine
forever.