As a rule, nowadays, I am viewed as a spiritualist, if we might call it that. Even I, at times, forget that I am an artist first. An author. A person who finds joy in giving words the power to paint a picture. Hopefully a picture that stirs the depths of the reader's soul.
I have found that, when the painter of words within me is silent, busy with the days, it will finally rise at midnight, spewing words into the room too fast for me to catch and place on paper. On this night I caught them. Laid them carefully together in a row. Allowing them the freedom to paint their story. I give them now to those who enjoy .. 'just words' upon paper.
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There came a midnight moment. Your soul, standing in the shadows, wakes me. Your presence brings the question back to me. The one I've asked myself so many times. Abandoned when no answer came.
Do the ones who cause harm lay awake in stagnant pools of memories? Or is it only the wounded ones who keep the night awake?
I refuse to ask the question of your soul again. I stare at you. Waiting. Will you speak?
As your silence fills the room I understand that it is your silence I must hear. I begin to hear your dread. Your soul replays the harm it's done. It drips with pain, filling the room with ancient tears.
It is then that I realize that we are separate. Perhaps we always were, though we often spoke of being one. I have moved away. Behind me is the ocean of tears. The bloody ribbons of memories and tangled words lay on the shore of what was.
The presence of your soul stirs mine and I begin to breathe again. Perhaps for the first time, really, since you chose to give me your sword instead of your truth. I am free. Wings made of light touch me. Lift me. I realize they are my own.
Floating in my soul's own light, I watch your silence as though it is tangible. Oh, wait. It is. You are gripped by the iron-strong steel of your own resolution.
I understand now. Your presence. Your soul. It has come to me to find it's freedom.
I cannot give you freedom. I can only tell you that it's already yours.
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For more about LZ and her books, please visit: www.nlightpress.com
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Wow, blew me away as always LZ...You are so much more than an artist, or poet or writer, or even a spitutilist. You have become a sister, a friend to many of us. When we see posts, we think LZ..When we hear something we think " I wonder what LZ would think of this". You have become part of our everyday lives, So yes, much more than all of those " words" Much love always
ReplyDeleteWow .. you left me speechless with your words. My heart thanks you. I am certain your words will ring in my future for a long-long time. Love to you as well.
DeleteWOW, these words absolutely belong on paper, and if you would, they should be on FB so we can share. This lifts my Soul to remember. Only love pours forth.
ReplyDeleteThank you so much, Sue! I'm so pleased that you loved the piece. Those who know me also know that I'm always a bit hesitant to 'spill words' .. but sometimes they become so very insistent. (smile) Yes .. only love pours forth. Blessings!
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