finding answers

Ivy clings to the sober walls like a restless sleeper clutching at the sheets. Its stretching tendrils are not the green of  hopeful growth or the green of eager eyes, but the green of long-forgotten memories just barely alive in the crumbling loam.

I sit in the dark, unmoving, and there’s nothing to see, but everything to feel. The wind becomes a symphony, and maybe it’s a lonely voice above my head, or maybe it’s voices together as one, with my voice among them.

I need you to understand that I write because I feel, and I feel so much that it hurts inside, like music caught in my soul. I write to get rid of it, and I write to keep it forever, because words never die. Somehow they make beauty out of uncertainty and passion out of pain, and even my little life starts to look noble.

I write because words are tears and words are laughter; frozen, yet so alive. Words are the miracle I never was.

I need you to understand. I write because… because… because I need you to understand. I need you to recognize the irregular pulse of my soul, and know that beneath the blood that paints its way through my veins, there’s more life than you can see. I don’t know how that life found me here, but it’s making me more than I am, and I write to set it free.

I know you have felt the same way. Maybe you have never felt so at home, and yet so full of longing when you’re capturing emotion with your camera. Or with your paintbrush. Maybe you don’t paint with colours or words, but with raw action and physical exertion. Perhaps you can touch a musical instrument and make it sing the deepest chorus of your heart. There’s something inside you that won’t stay there, and it’s glorious and sad and full of hope and confusion, and you know that it can’t just be yours or you’ll blow into a thousand tiny pieces trying to contain it.

What is it that reveals your soul? What is it that I need to understand about you?


6 responses

  1. Eric Novak

    Yes! Exactly! Why is it so hard to explain that concept when everyone feels it? I think this whole idea points us towards the fact that we are created with eternity written on our hearts – Ecclesiasties 3:11.

    Thank you, Grace.


    September 24, 2011 at 10:42 am

  2. Oh wow…Grace…this is ever so true…

    September 24, 2011 at 12:04 pm

  3. Grace:

    Whenever I notice that you’ve got a new post, I like to close the other windows, find a point in time that I am not busy, and just sit and read it a few times. It’s like reading the newspaper, but better, because its so good that I go over it again and again. This is no exception.

    “Words are the miracle I never was.” Despite it’s poetic brilliance, its not true. 😉 If your words and attitudes come from the overflow of your heart, (Luke 6:45) then you have one of the most beautiful of hearts. It’s because you are a miracle that your words have something miraculous to describe.

    College has put me out of sorts. I have lost what truly expresses those things (for lack of a better word). So, I cannot answer your question. I’m still trying to figure out… Stuff. 😛 how else can one describe it?

    But yes. Keep writing sistah.

    September 24, 2011 at 3:59 pm

  4. I take that last part back. singing lets my soul cry.

    September 24, 2011 at 9:58 pm

    • Singing is always a wonderful release indeed. It’s very similar to writing for me, really. =) Thanks for your comment, Nathan. The encouragement means a lot!

      September 25, 2011 at 7:54 pm

  5. Scarlett

    Grace, I know your primary audience doesn’t include me, but I can identify with some of your thoughts. You express yourself beautifully.
    What you need to know about me is that, first, I appreciate you visiting my blog, and second, that my drawings, photography, and other mixed media art will often reveal that I’m living with a broken heart.
    Mrs. Clay

    October 6, 2011 at 10:17 pm

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