I last wrote on this blog a year ago. How frightening that something you love can die in you. Creativity, energy, the very life and power of your words can be sucked out, dulling mind, heart, soul and passion and crushing that once fuller flow of these created code-bearers. Words. Spoken they give life or sting, cut and bruise. Written they speak to you again as you see yourself and something of your deepest being on the page or screen.
Where did I go? Why this long silent blankness?
And what inspired this start again? A boy called Ben who spewed out heart and entrails on another page.
He is one of many young men who inspired and challenged me - I have to admit this here - I miss those heady interactions, conversations, hours of sparring. The loss like spear piercing, blade slicing. As when winded - all that groaning and gasping.
So why did I leave them behind? They asked me that too - why are you going? A call - I said - back to what I used to be and do.
Had I only known how it would try to kill me. Doubts, rejection, pain and anger that dulled and crushed so that I could not scream as I would or should. Their arrogance and mockery - crueler blows and slicing dicing words, posts, reports and choruses.
So thank you Ben. Your honesty and open-hearted declarations and wrestlings have spurred me on. Have helped me put this pen to paper once again - restored a sense, a glimpse - a taste of hope again.
A spluttering stuttering start is better than none at all.
Hello twenty fourteen. A year yet to announce its new assaults. Here I am. I will face you and you will not destroy or drown out this voice - these sentences - this heart will not be silenced. This song will again be sung, this silent one will speak and paint new scenes and vistas with these words - again.
