I don’t know that I’ll ever be fully satisfied with what I write. I also don’t know that it’s important for why I write in the first place.
I might not always love the end product, or think everyone else will too, but the process of putting words to what’s going on often helps.
This time last year I was in one of the most beautiful places I have been in my life
but one of the most horrible places I have been in my mind.
The sun and the colours of culture and celebration,
made my darkness feel even deeper.
The beautiful beaches and peaceful people,
somehow emphasized my jagged edges and broken pieces.
The fresh sea water,
felt like salt in a wound.
The sunshine and heat of island life,
did little to warm the cold in my bones,
The tropical food and drink
couldn’t come close to filling the hollow ache in my heart,
and I felt more broken than ever.
Only the hopeless could be miserable surrounded by so much beauty.
Only those who were truly lost could remain un-moved by the ocean.
What cold and unfeeling monster was I?
Walking around an empty shell of a person,
doing my very best to live despite the pain.
I saw an inescapable darkness with no way out.
but that was a year ago.
Just as looking back now, I can hardly put that pain into words,
or give it the space and weight it demanded,
nor could I have imagined looking forward back then,
to where I am now.
A lot has happened in the past year,
and I made it so.
It hasn’t been easy to choose to meet myself time and time again,
in all the same uncertainty, fear, and pain of the past
but also in some peace and some acceptance of a future,
– a future I am finally beginning to claim as my own,
for I know now, that if I can be surrounded by the serenity of nature but still harbour unrest in my soul,
there must be some independent strength of spirit
for me to cultivate no matter where I go.
It feels almost as if I’m starting to regain my vision,
after living for years without sight.
But with the images of death and pain, come visions too of life and love.
I can see all the hurt and injustice,
which pale in comparison to the laughter and light,
that I choose to let guide me,
because I couldn’t have done so,
if I had never opened my eyes.