"I swallow that fear rock
and it consumes
heavy and arrogant.
I am easily eaten."
Five years in nameless anxiety and depression. And now freedom. Freedom. I stand in awe of the space that now holds only memories of dark; I shine my flashlight in the corners, taking inventory.
I never want to forget.
Instead I make art and I make word pictures and I string reminders
from the rafters. I strum the hanging pieces like so many guitar strings, discordant
and twangy, letting the sound linger.
I don't want to forget because then I may not recognize them upon their return.
I don't want to forget because then my pouring out becomes hollow
and useless to those still grasping about in the dark.
I don't want to forget because the pieces of me left behind truly needed
to be left behind, and there is beauty there too.
Where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom.
2 Cor. 3:17