I dove in today. With a breath, a deep leap of faith, I took a writing plunge with a handful of friends.

I dove for myself, for them, for the words. Repurposed prompts from a Words to Brew On session, I called this “Memory Vessels.”

This poem I’m sharing surfaced during “Memory Vessels.” We began with Robert Pinsky’s poem “Vessel.” His lines “tireless as a seal, blind as a log” stayed with me and became my own dive and meditation into the unknown.

The Scary Thing

Tireless as a seal,
blind as a log.

Sometimes we have to.

Dive
into the oblivion.
Jump.
Leap.
Trust.

Is there a net?

The scary thing
(there’s more than one thing, but)
the scary thing—

sometimes when we jump
others are pulled along
because of us.
In spite of us.

Sometimes

we plunge
and it washes across another life
across the wellbeing of others

drowning their gardens,
thinning, loosening, and running
their palette of colors—

acrylics crying brown down the canvas
because I jumped in.

The scary thing too (2)
if I don’t jump—
What if I never take the plunge?—
then what?

Who will?
Who will create the space, the place, the safe
for moving forward?
For taking chances?

For scribbling the words—
hoping, hoping—
they’ll disturb the waters

Splash!

reveal the canvas
drown the deceit
buoy the truth.

We can’t not jump
just because it’s dark.

It might always be dark

What if I’m a log
and don’t have eyes to see through
and beyond this ocean?

What if I happen to be the seal,
just the tireless energy
to dive
to cut through
the oblivion?

Every writing workshop, meetup, and retreat I facilitate is a leap of faith. I never know what will come, but it’s always magic. What leaps of faith do you take in your writing or in writing with others? I’d love to hear about it in the comments.

©Pennie Nichols. All Rights Reserved. 2025