I can see again

I wake up every morning while it is still night. I get to work 15 minutes early to sit in the parking lot to watch the first part of the sunrise.

Something's happening inside when I see the siluhettes of the trees wave at me from the other side of the vast concrete blanket.

I hear this poet's voice now and I recognize it, but not as my own. This little voice wondering whether the birds that live in the island bus stop (Metro Transit Centers, they're called) are migratory or if they rough it through the mild winters with only about a dozen or so freezes. Do they survive off of the kindness of patio dinners who share french fries from the ten burger joints in a mile radius?

But more importantly, who is asking these questions? My multiple personality orders are not a disorder. This change is a study of my psychological well-being.

The other day over brunch a friend asked me when I write and why I write. I said when I have to and because I have to. I couldn't tell you whether this need was developed or inborn. I just know that it is there.

The voice is unrelenting. It makes me write down words like malfeasance in church. Makes me read every day. Forces meditations. Becomes obesesed with phrases, and then forgets them before they can be written down.

Still, I am glad to have it back.