A Poem Called Choices

I'm in an on-line poetry group where we were given 8 words (in bold italics) in the poem shown below) and were then allowed to let our imagination run wild with our own personal interpretations. Sometimes I need some stimulus (like a few words or the gentle support of others in a safe group setting) as a jumping off point. It felt good to tap into my writer heart today. I think it was feeling a tad lonely.

Choices

She believes in gold that
reflects peculiar prisms,
angel armies whose
translucent wings brush
her shoulders daily
and butterflies that
dust her eyes with
pollen, leaving yellow kisses
The hushed dappled
woods brings forth
her inner enchantment
and a padlocked doorway
she will break open
and roads off the
beaten path she will
abandon and a warehouse
of words that lie to her
she spits upon for
into her life only smooth
pebbles will she skip
across the water, the
boulders that have
adorned her shoulders
like albatrosses now
dusty filaments at
her feet and she
blows them away
spreads her wings
and adrift, joins
her army awaiting.

Earlier in the day, I experimented with some rubber stamps and made a collage. I am finding myself more at ease in switching from painting to writing and vise versa. In this way, I am able to intensify and ultimately sustain the energy that swirls within me, aching for expression. The resistant voice grows quieter as a result.