You should only write if you’re inspired.

Her voice was

a balm to

me. She was

my touchstone, my

rock. I thought

of what she

said, of her

wisdom. I thought

of the endless

nights I had

spent trying to

see through the

fog that engulfed

me, of the

frustration of looking

at a blank

screen. It mocked

me like an

unblinking eye. I

tried to give

words to what

I was feeling.

I’m a writer. I can’t be a writer if I don’t write.

Her voice became

softer. It was

the voice I

always called to

mind when I

imagined her speaking

to me. Hearing

it was no

different. It was

instantly, incredibly comforting:

You will always be a writer, whether or not you’re writing. It’s in you, it’s what you do. It’s who you are. Let the words come on their own. They will come when they are ready.

I carried her

words home with

me, as if

they had a

physical form. When

I got home,

I was weighed

down. I put

my hands in

my pockets and

found they were

full of stones.

Each stone had

a word painted

on one side

in metallic paint

that looked like

water. I let

the stones fall

where they would

onto the floor.

Everywhere a stone

fell, water began

to spread from

beneath it, until

my floor was

covered in water

as deep as

an ocean. Looking

at all the

words shining from

underneath the waves.

Now that I

was no longer

weighed down by

them, it was

time to swim

into the water

and see what

the words had

to say to

me.

 

* Dedicated to my Wonder Mum, who said the words that shone through the water. 🙂

Excuse me?

I looked up.

It was a

man that I

recognized, but I

didn’t know from

where. It must

have shown on

my face. I’ve

never been good

at hiding things

within my skin.

You probably don’t remember me.  I saw you walking down the sidewalk with your cane during the summer. I said we were both Children of the Sphinx.

As soon as

he said that,

I did remember.

The riddle of

the Sphinx ran

through my head:

What walks on four legs in the morning, two legs in the afternoon, three legs in the evening?

I said. His

eyes widened and

he smiled at

me, clapping a

hand to my

arm in joy.

You do remember! And look at you now! Walking without your third leg! How did you do that?

I thought about

how to answer

him, how to

encompass everything I’d

been through to

get where I

am. In the

end, I just

shrugged my shoulders.

He put his

hand on my

arm again and

left it there.

It’s okay, you don’t need to say anything. Life doesn’t often work out the way we think it will. Life doesn’t go as we plan it or dream it when we’re young.

I nodded. He

had summed up

everything I had

been thinking. I

looked at him,

really took him

in, his kind

eyes, warm smile

and his right

hand, holding a

long wooden cane.

No, it doesn’t. Mine certainly hasn’t.

He looked at

me, taking me

in this time.

He nodded his

head, looked at

me with wise

and open eyes.

Can I ask you something? You have the look of someone who’s been on a journey. You have, haven’t you?

I nodded again,

unable to say

anything. I was

normally not at

a loss for

words, but this

man’s ability to

see right into

me silenced them.

Then I want you to do something for me. Every time you start to slide back, I want you to take a stop on the path your on and look back at how far you’ve come. Will you do that.

I said softly.

Yes, I will.

Good.

He said, giving

me a smile.

Just remember, You’re life may have not gone as planned, but that’s okay. It’s all a journey. All of it.

He hugged me

then with one

arm, the other

one still down,

holding the cane.

I hugged him

back with both

arms, trying to

communicate everything that

I hadn’t said.

You take care of yourself now. Okay?

He walked away

down the sidewalk

With the sun

shining behind him,

his shadow looked

as if he

didn’t have a

cane in his

grasp and seemed

to stretch until

it was as

tall as the

Sphinx.

When I first saw her,

tears were sliding down

her cheeks. Though they

were tears of grief,

they shone on her face

like dew drops made

from her sadness.

As I watched the tears

leave her eyes, they began

to shape a necklace made

of jewels that shone as

bright as stars. They

reflected the light within her

that shone so brightly.

As I’ve come to know her,

she has filled my life

with her light and her

joy. She has

astounded me with

her kindness, her

tenderness, her

willingness to love.

It’s as if she stands

at the centre of an

island, surrounded

by the seas over

which she travelled.

She ignores the castle,

tall and dark and instead

chooses to stand on the sand

so that the water from

the waves can touch her skin.

As I’ve come to know more,

I am astounded and inspired

by her strength, her will

and her wisdom.

Over time, the

necklace of stars

has become a crown,

sitting proudly on her head,

letting her light shine out

for all to see.

She has left the island

to embrace life and all

that it has to offer.

 

* For Jayne, who is stronger than she knows. 🙂

I couldn’t keep

all of myself

inside of me.

There was too

much of it,

too much shadow

and darkness, grief

and self-doubt and

it consumed me,

filling me with

a tar-like substance

that would slip

through my skin,

staining my clothes.

A smell came

from my clothes

and there was

a look about me

of quiet desperation.

I could barely

walk at that point

and was like

the third part

of the Sphinxes

riddle. I was

cold in even

in the heat

of the sun.

I was lost

within myself no

longer able to

hold myself together.

I was breaking

like glass streaked

with smoke. I

sat in the sun,

its fierce brightness

shining down on

me and I felt

nothing. I closed

my eyes and

drifted on a

dark turbulent sea

that threw its waves

against the inside

of me. Tears

slipped out of

my eyes like

black pearls. They

landed in my

lap and I

tried to catch

them. It was

then that she

spoke to me:

“Now why would you want to hold on to that shit for?”

I opened my

eyes and saw

a woman sitting

beside me. She

had kind eyes,

deep golden brown.

The sun shone

around her like

a halo. She

was motioning

at the pearls

of my despair.

“They are all I have left.”

I told her.

The words were

thick coming out

of my mouth.

“They are all I know now.”

She gave me a

kind look of

such understanding, of

knowing that more

black pearls began

to slide, slide

down my cheeks.

“You can’t heal with all of that inside you if you don’t let all of that go, how do you expect to fill the empty spaces with something else?”

I looked at

her and couldn’t

tell what age

she was. She

could be twenty

or thirty-five. She

reached out and

took my hands

in hers. The

pearls in my

palms fell to

the ground. Her

hands were as

warm as the sun.

I shook my head,

uttering words that

I had kept close,

inside the shadows.

“I don’t know what to do now. I’m so afraid all the time. I can’t live like this. I’ve been thinking of ending it, just calling it quits. Of giving up.”

She gave me

another look of

understanding, as if

she had been

exactly where I

was before, as

if she knew.

She nodded and

didn’t have to say

anything but

then she did,

in the softest,

kindest of voices.

“You are not a quitter. It’s not in you. Let the darkness go. It will be okay.”

She squeezed my

hand and I knew

that it would

be. I nodded

and even that

small movement of

agreement was like

a knife blade

severing that which

had been holding

me back. The broken

shadows began to

fall away from

me, a slow

trickle of pearls

that plunked and

plinked and clicked

on the grass

and the bench.

The trickle soon

increased, real tears,

stained black by

the smoke shadows

inside of me

flowing from my

eyes. I tried

to cover my

eyes to stem

the flow of

the tears. She

pulled my hands

back down into

my lap. I

looked at her.

“When the darkness is gone, what do I fill the emptiness with?  I’ve lived with these shadows for so long. I don’t know who I am anymore.”

She interlaced her

fingers in mine

and the heat

from her hands

increased, filling me

with such warmth.

“You can fill the emptiness with new things. Let the past go. Only then can you discover who you are meant to be.”

I nodded again,

the motion another

swipe at the

web of smoke

and shadow that

I wore around

myself. The tears

came then, a

flood of black

tears that soaked

my shirt, my

clothes, the grass.

They stopped for

a moment, as

if taking a

breath or pause.

Then more tears

came, but they

were not filled

with smoke. These

were real tears,

clear and pure.

They became

a torrent that

lifted the black

pearls and slid

them along through

the grass, away

from me. Once

the last black

pearl vanished, the

tears stopped, I

sat there, wet

with spent emotion

and looked at

the woman again.

She had not

let go, had

held my hands

the entire time.

“Do you feel better?”

She asked me.

“Yes.”

I said. I

felt empty but

I didn’t feel

heavy anymore. I

wasn’t weighed down

by my past.

I had let

it all go.

“Good,”

She said, her

voice kind, soft.

“Now the healing can begin.”

“What will happen?”

“You’ll let your true self shine. That’s all you have to do.”

The sun framing

her head like

a halo grew

brighter and I

had to look

away, close my

eyes. When the

sun dimmed, I

looked back. The

woman was gone,

but I still

felt her hands

grasping mine and

I realized I

no longer felt

alone.