Writing a book is very easy. Just give up your life, strip off all your lies, lash yourself to a rock, push yourself until you think you’re going to die, ignore people when they say nothing you write is worth reading, and then publish it and beg people to buy it. Easy. – David Groves
Writing Heart-Prints
9/22/13
Let
me write with blood stamped throughout it -
The
blood of hidden memories.
The
blood of my true self.
The
red of my own heart-cries
Scribbled
on each stained page
And
fingerprinted with honesty.
Words
twisting and dancing
From
experience, friendships, sorrows-
Marked
out from my heart...
Let
my words capture that, even to some degree.
It
doesn't come easy.
It
isn't without aches...
There
are other words I can write
To
perhaps still appease the longing to share.
Glossy
colors flow,
Painting
soft shades of light
That
can often mask the reality.
They
dance across the shadows,
And
while they are not wrong,
They
are not quite right either.
They
don't cry from the depths of my heart
The
same way heart-prints do.
Yet,
there are days when the airy colored tendrils
Seem
the safer things to write.
Whispers
all around me call to be written.
I
listen.
I
hear the words that sing to be free.
Through
the brambles, through the fire,
Through
the long nights,
And
quiet loneliness
They
cry out.
Deep
inside me, they well up
To
leak over everything I touch.
I
clench my hands.
It
can hurt to let those words spill over,
Watching
them seep into my colored paper
And
tint everything in their wake...
They
sink and weigh heavily on my heart;
I
believe many of them echo those around me.
It
hurts to write the cries of a heart in pain -
To
write the cries of my own pain.
Ah,
but it's worth it in the end, I think.
When
I reach out my hand,
Letting
myself escape within my writing
To
sprinkle heart-prints over everything I share,
I
am truly me.
~ZA
Copyright © 2013 Ophelia M. Flowers
This is beautiful, Ophelia.
ReplyDelete*Smiles* Thank you, Juliet. :)
DeleteAmen.
ReplyDelete:)
Delete