The words keep coming....through the looking glass

Hmmmm. They didn’t start out prophetic. They started out as reflections. Little midnight doodlings. Obsessive Saturday night scribblings. To save my mind. To keep me breathing, in and out. Deep breaths. Manic pencil strokes that rescued me from the moment.

I usually paint on the walls. The never ending, snaking ,growing taller walls that house my soul.

And then, Joe died. And the clipboard with the stupid cardstock paper and the world from the living room window suddenly became the only way out. Thoughts just started flying by… zipping by actually, like Dorothy’s view from her cruddy ole Kansas window. And so….there were pictures of this thought, and that moment , and God knows what, stacked up half dressed and half drawn on the coffee table. Lined up like soldiers, they patiently waited for the moment that the color, the meaning, the why of it all, would make sense.

I’m touring now. Visiting my own pages. Meeting the spirits , the kinfolk, the paper pages of the last few months. Funny. I recognize them all. Their familiarity is family. But if I had known then, what I know now, I might have changed some of their names.

Peace, love and the future is a spooky little thing.

I found this at the very back of my blog today, stumbled on it accidently....And knowing what I know now, had to repost it....May the circle be unbroken...