When I open the book of my life
The pages await
I scan through the pages
Scribbled in a hurry is some of my writing
Some I don’t even recognize as mine
And seem to be written by someone else
There are long pauses on some pages
The weight of the silence I can feel in my bones
Crackling and heavy my attention lingers on them too long
Judgements fill the pages and my thoughts
Broken and inturrupted
Tear stains between hurried frantic words
I don’t know the sign posts
But I feel the pain
Wanting to shut the book and be done with it
Instead I keep turning the pages
Rereading the pain over and over
I can’t find the blank pages
Pages filled to every corner
Chaotic words, scribbled words, drawn out words
Few and far between the words are still, neat, and calm
Begging to stay on these calm pages
I know I must keep turning
Finally I find the blank ones
So many blank ones
I feel silly for being overwhelmed
I let go of the pain of previous pages
I let go of the still calm
Holding with me their lessons
I continue to fill the blank spaces
Trying to write neater
But knowing the book doesn’t judge
Accepting the messy pain of my hands
I look with hope to the many ppages
Left in the rest of my book

Written March 13, 2016

Follow up written December 13, 2016 http://wp.me/s1rAEu-words

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