Monday, August 25, 2008

Righting the Writer

I have a lot of journals, notebooks, steno pads, sketchbooks gathered in piles, stacked in boxes, leaning in shelves and I know there is a constellation of meaning to them. This morning, as I rocked up from my bed, I grabbed three and flipped through the intended words and thoughtful works inside. Sometimes it is very sad to read my inner struggles from five or more years ago as they catch up with the ones that are still haunting me. Some demons are more imagined than real.

There is a line in one of my writings that prompted this entry. It is a sigh to the Lord.

Cloak me in your shield of light.
Save me from my imagined turmoil.
Is the Devil going to be as determined to keep me still?
("Be still and know that I am God")
Sit with me and tell me something.
Hold out your open hand
And allow me to gaze upon its Universe.
Follow and clean my footsteps from hesitating darkness.
It is only when I look ahead
Will I succeed.

Same journal, almost a year later:

Don't waste your time asking me "What?"
My answer extends beyond measure and cannot be expressed with words.
It is when you can find confidence without asking "What"
That you will find me.

There is this flawless path of knowing,
And the uncertain group of hopes with fears.
Endless anguish colapses in the frame of memory.
We also pass through this envelope of time,
Only to surface and gasp for heaven's air.

Well, that's all for now kiddies!