Usually, I love to write. Whether poetry or prose, I love to take time to process ideas and observations, to explore analogies and to craft my words to say what I really want them to say. I’m not one to journal; I tend to be a thinker and when I finally put pencil to paper or fingers to keys, that’s usually when I have teased out another little gem worth hanging on to.
There are times, however, when I am afraid to write. There are so many feelings and thoughts churning around inside that I may not have sufficient control to temper their force or direction. They may overpower me, and most certainly give insights to my reader that I have worked so carefully to hide away.
I don’t know much about canals. No, really, nothing much at all, but somehow I feel as though I am building my sentences and paragraphs with the same kind of structured walls, shortcutting their way through territory that would often remain untouched. Perhaps my thoughts and ideas are needed in this world, or sometimes they give a little entertainment or convennience. The walls need to be deep enough to let through something significant, but not so shallow as to be of little use.
I work selectively to choose the words most suited to guiding and directing my reader along the watery pathway of my choosing, ever hopeful that the tides of emotion will not surge and cause the waters to spill over the sides, flooding and bringing damage that might not be undone. While vulnerable in places, the minor faults are constantly monitored, ready to be completely erased by the backspace key.
Tonight, I feel the mortar is a little weak. The water is seeping and I am getting ready the sandbags of avoidance, talking around a topic, instead of going with the flow. The reversing edit button is at hand, but I have this foolish determination to keep moving forward and get through to the other side. Then, as I toggle the power off button and close the screen, I will be free to let those feelings loose where no-one will ever see.
Sweet and Sour 
This is one golden line among a flow of them:”The walls need to be deep enough to let through something significant, but not so shallow as to be of little use.” I love what you’ve crafted here. Gotta say, a daily (or at least most days) notebook practice helps e to relieve some of that pressure, that “churning”, that “force.” Lovely writing…thanks.
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What a fabulous metaphor! Wow. I feel like you’ve given words to something that I haven’t been able to express well. I love this line, “I am building my sentences and paragraphs with the same kind of structured walls, shortcutting their way through territory that would often remain untouched.” Also, I wrote for all of last March without acknowledging a *major* problem I was having at my school. I still haven’t written about it & I may never do so. Anyway, as you navigate your canal, know that others of us are somewhere in our own waterways, rooting for you.
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I love the image you are creating. The metaphor of canals used so eloquently, worked throughout your slice. Linking the paragraphs with the same imagery. I feel that dilemma of whether you should or shouldn’t write. The encouraging point about slices is that you can get away with the words. Sometimes readers analyse or find what was not intended and that is perfect. Thanks for a thought provoking slice. I’ll read it again.
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You continue to blow me away with your writing. You find a metaphor that works with your thoughts and go with it. I loved so many lines but this one stayed with me: “I work selectively to choose the words most suited to guiding and directing my reader along the watery pathway of my choosing, ever hopeful that the tides of emotion will not surge and cause the waters to spill over the sides, flooding and bringing damage that might not be undone. ” You write with with your heart and it’s a joy to read.
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