Lost But Not Yet Found

“You’re the inspiration.” were the lyrics sung in a hit song by the group Chicago. Under normal circumstances I might continue singing the song to myself, being that it is one of my personal favorites. Yet as of lately all I can seem to muster up is a pathetic, discordant sigh.

The other week I received some junk mail from poetry.com. On any other day I might not be able to contain myself and begin ripping the envelope open as I ascended the stairs to the third floor. But not this day. Without a second thought I peered into the cellophane window presenting my name and address, sighed as once before, and nonchalantly tossed the unopened envelope into the trash can.

Oh how I long to sit and scribble poetic expressions of my deepest inner thoughts and feelings. But it appears that my tall, dark, and handsome past has not only recklessly stolen my heart and spirit, but my inspiration as well. Where is that girl who in less than an hour could artistically spill the entire contents of her soul onto a mere piece of paper? Where are those individualized ideas about love and life? Where are those joyful moments when my heart swelled beyond confining ribs?

Perhaps they have been thrown in the corner under the remains of some dirty laundry. Or maybe they have been discarded along with the household garbage. Yet maybe, perhaps, you have hidden them in the closet, for it is then that they are out of sight and out of mind, just like me.

This lost and found is till waiting for a Good Samaritan, someone to find and return that which was unjustly possessed. I want to write again. I want to idealize again. I want to love again. I’m here to say I want it all back.