Silence in the Box

There is silence in my heart.  No longer do I yearn to be heard.  The poet inside me is gone—or at least silent.  It is new, different.  It was scary.  It is mundane.

Every now and then there is a glimmer, a whisper of something I want to write about, to share, but mostly it’s just a muffled groan.  For a time there I thought it was that part of me had been crushed, but now it seems a complete transformation has taken place.  As if I have settled into a new body, a new personality, there is no longer a strong desire to write, to share, to teach.  I have changed.  Fundamentally.

What does one do with that?

My life has, all things considered, been relatively good.  I am in a good relationship with someone who loves and cares about me, who I really am, who stands by me, supports me, who believes in me and is there for me, someone who responds when I speak out instead of reacting with violence, anger, or silence.  It is new, unusual, and appreciated.  The rest of my life, well, it’s still a bit of a challenge.  Working on my budget.  Working on my health.  Working on work.  It’s another day. 

I spent much of my week changing the energy in my bedroom.  Beyond the normal cleaning I found very very affordable curtains at Bed, Bath, and Beyond, which I’ve put up.  My room is now a deep, royal red.  Grounded.  In the day the curtains open to let in the sunlight.  At night they close keeping out even the slightest glimmer of light.  I have never slept so soundly as I do in the womb I have created.

So if you ask me how I am I’d say, “Okay.”  That’s not to say I don’t have my ups and downs.  I do.  For instance yesterday I felt someone thinking about me and it brought up a lot of heartache.  Even Jesus was only denied by Judas three times, not four.  How the hell should I feel about that?

There is so much on my plate.  Always is.  I won’t go into that for now.  Maybe later.

Cheers,

.a