Tone on tone. Silence use to cause me such grief when it was mixed with the sound of my tears rolling with thunder down my cheeks. I had once slayed my hopes by placing it into another's unsteady hand, only to realize the arthritis that was forming in the palms of my happiness kept me from raising up a fist of my hand to say enough.
I use to believe that my heart would not heal but now I know I am strong. For if I sat alone in a room and I was given a pen, I would write a tale that would be full of love with no end. I would speak of lives education that continued to teach, and me as a student who sat anxiously with my hopes to remain open to be free to goodness and discovery.
Thorns of rusted wood pencils that have scribbled my words settle around my throat and dig into my neck with pain. I flex my collar muscles to eventually and dually receive and relieve pain.
Fear is not uncontrollable, I am wild and free and whatever is ahead of me to experience in this moment, tomorrow and this lifetime will be destined for me. I use to think I was just ordinary, however now I am sure that I am spectacular through the harmony of my words that echo the tail of a girl that one day became a noble woman.
Love has breathed her kiss upon me.