Re-Discovery: 2-21-2008

Inkwell

I immerse quelled fingers to dabble

in the reservoir of my mind,

deep within the richest ink,

the blackest I can find.

Allured by security of darkness,

away from the starkness of reality.

Where I find my soul

in the blackest tracings,

on the whitest page.

©BAR 01/21/99

I come to this place with a deep sense of anticipation but also some uncertainty. I have been encouraged to write and share my words. These are words of my life, my journey. It is the journey that I have taken to find and discover the reality of LIFE.

On January 30, 2008, I celebrated an anniversary. It was the two-year anniversary of the day my life and story changed. I rolled threw the doors of an OR suite. I was to under go Roux-En-Y Gastric Bypass surgery. I never truly anticipated how much this surgery would change not only my physical body but also a very vital layer of who I am.

That day was the start of my journey to health and a life I never truly knew but the months and years of preparation are also so much a part of my story. It is the story of who I was, who I have grown to be but also, most importantly, it is the story of life and love.

````````````````````````````````````````````````

Over the years I have learned the importance of words. Words of discovery, searching, pain, joy, blackness, confidence, hate, love. They were words of life. I drew upon them to find a friend, to listen to a child, to feel and taste the tears. Through those words I learned to love myself and to forgive.

Over time I packed up those words and I filed them away until now. With the nudging from a dear soul, I have now come back to a place of words.

I feel drawn to these words, my need to simply write. They feel like an old friend, someone I haven’t seen, touched or hugged in a very long time. They whisper to me….”just believe” and with tears I return…and I believe.

…the written word…it welcomes this changed person…home

Unveiled

A naked form sits in obscurity

at the root of a willow tree.

Veiled behind slivered leaves

bathed in hues of yellow-green.
Postured in a child’s fragility;

arms wrapped around knees.

Encircled by angel tears

and murmurs to just believe.

©BAR 11/16/98