The gradual return of creativity

I must admit another creative crisis had hit me as the massive practical matters and responsibilities of moving to a new country inundated me. Having less than an infant's level of German and not living in a city where English is widespread, I heavily depend on the combined goodwill and gesture-reading skills of the strangers behind the counter and/or the charity of German-speaking friends for essential tasks such as registering in the city, applying for a visa, filling out employment forms, getting Internet in the apartment and even picking up mail. I am amazed at how smoothly furniture-shopping went, and now I have a bed to sleep in and cabinets for things I hadn't unpacked since my U.S.-Denmark move over 2 years ago. Finally, with things getting on track and the apartment suddenly empty as my flatmates and visitors were out doing their thing, loneliness came to visit me and out came this poem, untitled for now because I didn't want to name it "Loneliness" but had no other better idea. (I had to post it on the blog with my cellphone because the apartment still has no Internet and when I'm at the coffeeshop with WiFi all I do is look for train tickets and hostels):

Loneliness makes one stumble
on one's way somewhere better;
in an unguarded moment
the body goes over
the edge of a step and
hits the ground.

The fall makes one look for
crutches as the backbone
feels broken,
when it simply hurts
too much
to walk.

The crutches though
readily available
are fragile wood,
they crack under all the weight;
one stumbles again, though not as hard,
bumps against the wall, a bruise forms,
sometimes right on top
of the old wound,
which reopens.

Loneliness makes one give up
on one's way somewhere better;
in searching for a shortcut
the body passes from
crutch to crutch til it can't
do without.

Conversely one looks for
a rest stop between steps,
still healing,
but willing to wait
to learn
to walk

beside
and not because of
a fellow journeyer.