of death and giving to life
Today I killed her. Today I killed them. She was one in many: some were twenty years old; other even more. In peace I read their words, her many voices – they meant so much to me! The round calligraphy turns to incline to the right of the page with time passing… They mean a life to me. I was so attached to her! Often I reread her writings and mirrored in them: always returning at the same point, an alley of emotions with a dead-end signal. Round and round they went, words of labyrinth and of sadness; words of irony and of pain. One by one I pulled the leaves and let them drop on the floor: there she was, dead. No more rereading the same old feelings. I took them in hands and buried the whole packet in the garden. They will flourish soon enough for me to see them bloom in different shapes, colours and scents.
posted by Anonymous @ 1:53 PM
3 comments
The 
3 Comments:
Burying old feelings and emotions? Wow! This is what I have been doing recently. A real shift has taken place and it feels good. I can tell that this will be good for you too Velida. And I just love the image. The artists in those old publishing houses really did some wonderful work.
Bravo!
Anita Marie
This is so intensely profound, so lovely. Sweet Cantadora, spirit in white, who carries the eternal fire of story in her beautiful hands; woman of wisdom who understands the meaning in the dance of circles we weave, once again you have made me cry.
“Tears are a river that take you somewhere. Weeping creates a river around the boat that carries your soul-life. Tears lift your boat off the rocks, off dry ground, carrying it down river to someplace new, someplace better . . . For women tears are the beginning of initiation into the Scar Clan, that timeless tribe of women of all colors, all nations, all languages, who down through the ages have lived through a great something, and yet who stood proud, still stand proud.” (C.P.Estés)
I stand proud in these tears, my sister, my friend.
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