Write, write, write. It can save your life. You don’t need lessons, just pour out your thoughts and your pain. But only when it is safe to do so.
*
“What man art thou that, thus bescreened in night, so stumblest on my counsel?” – William Shakespeare
“Privacy is not something that I’m merely entitled to, it’s an absolute prerequisite. – Marlon Brando
*
At what age is privacy a right? a voice silenced
Years ago
I saw a painting
the rolling stone
of damnation
the agony
of the wicked
said to be
eternal
I heard the story
but knew
I had been there
before
*
like childhood
the pain – eternal
escape beyond reach
attempts to record –
purged, destroyed
that was before
marriage
from the frying pan
to the inferno
from there it
became worse
he too a victim
his choices were
different
i remained silent
*
there is nothing
that can prepare you
for the death of a child
they say the loss of a spouse
comes close
but I was the one to run
from him – yet I
rendered silent
no one – no where
to confide
*
decades of pain lodged deep
its daggers
surfacing briefly
clawing at the heart
tearing the eyes
haunting dreams
exorcism futile
until all dreams vanish
*
reclamation
can be found even
when we think we
are not looking
with hope discarded
mine came from
pen and paper
slowly, guardedly
at first a cautious
re-introduction
cached from critical eyes
*
floodgates ruptured
denial of the past
no longer buried
writing the crucial key
long ago abandoned
confession at ones peril
without the sanctity of
confidentiality
the words are mine
words – sacrosanct
freedom – unconditional
now – with conviction
my words flow free
*
bisous,
léa