Old poem, new progress

Cleaning is always an adventure for me. That’s probably I don’t do it often enough.

Anyways, I was going through the notes on my iPad and found this poem I’d written about seven years ago. I’d almost forgotten writing it.

More Than a Meant-To-Be

Everything has been said
And nothing has been done.
We are waiting here,
In the night, on the plain;
Waiting for more words.

For life and death hang
In the balance of a word.
When they give the order,
We go and don’t return.
A cold night, a cold world
Does anybody care?

And then suddenly
This madness makes sense:
We’ve a purpose here that stays
Even if the memory fades
And it waits for no man’s hate.

The day that we’re born for
Is the day that we die;
But there is more than here.

We’re more than a meant-to-be,
A memory; something that’s lost
And can’t be found again.
We’re on a tidal wave, an ocean spray
Light is here and we can see past today.

No more words, no more thought
We are here and we can do our part.

We’re more than a meant-to-be,
A memory; something that’s lost
And can’t be found again.
We’re on a tidal wave, an ocean spray,
Light is here and we can see past today.


In other writing news, I am 60% of the way done with the first draft of the novel I’m working on. That’s farther than I’ve ever gotten before and I fully intend to blow that record out of the water with a finished manuscript by January 15th.

A new beginning

There’s something about beginnings, isn’t there?

Beginnings mean hope: if you start something, it’s a declaration that you hope to finish it. At least, that’s what beginnings mean to me. But then again, I’ve never had trouble starting something, and my hopes have always been stronger than my doubts.

No, it’s not beginnings that I have trouble with. It’s the follow-through where I struggle. In so many ways, I am a classic INFP: my brother calls me “a force of chaos through his otherwise orderly world”. That’s a compliment…or so he tells me.

Who am I? How to answer that?

I could give you a list of attributes, I suppose.

I’m Hannah Hedges. I’m a writer. I’m a CNA. I’m the devoted sister of a wonderful man with Asperger’s. I’m a daughter of two wise and kind people. I’m an Air Force brat. I’m an INFP. I’m an Episcopal. In politics I am liberal but in lifestyle I am conservative. I am the tempest in a teacup, a bundle of contradictions and confusion. But the sum of all these things still does not quite make up me. I suppose the quickest way to answer that question is I am a dreamer and a crusader.

I am driven to write by the voices in my head: stories that won’t leave me alone, words that pound on the inside of my skull, day and night. There is no peace in silence for me. I write because I must; I write to make sense of the madness that is both within and without. I write to understand myself and my world.

But I still have trouble with the follow-through. I have been writing for years, and yet I only have one book published. There are probably two dozen stories that litter my iPad and my room, spilling out in all directions from my life…all unfinished.

This new blog is a promise to myself, a promise that there will be endings as well as beginnings. This is a place for me to share the words that haunt me.

Welcome all to the journey.