Inspiration comes in spurts.
When it hits me I feel a gold glittery light enter my chest and disperse itself through my body shattering into tiny pieces, entering my bloodstream and turning what was red into bright gold. I am electric, charged, and the golden blood rushes through my veins, from my heart into my arms and through my fingertips. My hands are vibrating with words, they can’t stop, they don’t stop, they won’t stop. They keep going.
I have a lot to say, and it’s coursing through my veins.
This spirit wants to be heard.
Who are you?
What do you want to tell me?
It’s my grandmother. She wants to tell me something.
She wants me to write.
She wants me to use what I have and share it with the world.
“Let it out!” She says “Share your gift.”
I’m listening to her.