and then...

Because I agreed to lead a writing workshop in church Because we'll write spiritual memoirs or poetry or short stories or even six word pieces or flash fiction or words without form, or midrash Because we're moved to think when reading a story Because telling a story about redemption without spelling it out, just letting the characters carry the tale means digging deep within myself, seeking to find words I began to read books, short stories, scripture—looking for the thread, the way in to imagination To write a midrash requires reading every word of text—Noah builds an ark with detailed instructions, I stop short, a pause—what does Noah's wife think She's the missing person, the unseen, invisible presence Perhaps I'll write her story or the story of a wife whose life ebbs away as the other, Noah's leave taking may be an epigram, or just a place I rest It may be the springboard for a memory, a time when a voice remained silent. It's the silent places that beg for the release of a story It's the spaces between words, the pause between inhaling and exhaling, the chrysalis and the butterfly's birth