Adorn the Dark.

Adorning the Dark

There once was a girl who used to create.

She’d write stories

And letters

And songs

And create.

Beauty

And Flow;

With Thoughts 

And Purpose.

Unearth her emotions,

Her captive thoughts.

Her strength

Released in form,

Of Words

Of Lines

Of Life.

She’d dance 

In the creating.

Her finished work

Glanced over

Reviewed and reprised;

Cheerleaded.

By Teachers,

By Mom.

She dreamed of

Creating:

Creating Good

And Truth.

Story,

Stirring Narrative.

Words

Worth their Truth.

Then that girl became woman.

Then another’s words 

caused hesitancy,

Fear,

Pause.

Stripped her of uniqueness:

Of value to say.

...Just another haphazard word

Tossed on a blog,

Or another book

Of boastful phrases

On the store 

Shelf...

Dusty.

Not worth their words.

Not worth her.

So she stopped:

Creating.

She stopped: 

Reflecting.

She hid,  

Swarmed over,

In fear of being “just another”

Now squandered

By others: 

Disbelief.

Without cheerleader,

One to 

Believe in 

The unique.

She shrunk

She’d stopped:

Creating.

Reflecting.

Stopped being:

Unique.

Needing one

To holding up the hands

In the fight:

To Create.

Then she sat with a friend

At brunch

At a table

Who asked

How she,

Now woman,

Became A Writer.

Remarked about her writing.

Sparkle in her eye,

Belief spoke forth,

Of the woman she once knew~

How she knew 

Words

Sentences

Story

Belief:

Writing.

And was good!

And they sat there 

Talked

Stirred:

Reminded

And the Spirit moved.

{The years too,

Dissuaded:

Squandered by children

Sacrificed at home,

Lost in the battle,

And loosing her gift.}

{The years,

They ate at her spirit,

They darkened her soul,

The cynisized her heart,

They corroded

Her gift.}

Then:

The battle to write

Began again.

Because of that friend

Because of the Spirit

And so she sits

Tentative

Not expectant

But willing.

To show up

To create

To reflect her Creator

To write.