Today I Wrote a Letter, Tomorrow I’ll Write A Song

I wrote my dad a letter today, telling him why I can’t bring myself to commit to a job quite yet. Telling him not to worry about me, that I’m no longer subjected to manipulative emotional and sexual abuse at the hands of my “superior”. Letting him know I’m not quietly repressing my anger, that I’m slowly working through a lot of pain and have begun to accept myself and others as beautiful and flawed.

I was so ashamed that I let someone else dampen and tread on my wild soul. I was terrified to open and speak those wounds, to allow them to bleed, but they have to in order to purge, scab, and eventually heal. I was scared to admit that at times I’m weak and vulnerable as a newborn.

There’s no more time to waste in isolation. My courage is brimming over and I feel a deep need to share it creatively. We have no idea the hurts and scars others carry. Our job, my job, is to help people.. to hold their hand along the journey and keep working through myown struggles to shed light on theirs. No one can do it for anyone else, but we can help lighten the burden.

This is a little something I wrote a few days ago in front of the hearth:

“Big feet, little toes
Sunshine and wind blows
Sacrifice the lamb in the billows
Twinkling branches, open windows

Right arm baby babbles and dings
Every morning he wakes up singing
Quiet, allowing bird chirping
Waving, cresting, unresting and unsettled

The damage has been done
There’s no turning back this far along
You can’t undo strums in the song

The blue chair is illumined by the light
Of the sun from the curtained balcony”

Thanks for reading, skimming, browssssing!