on becoming a carpenter-
some things one must do alone. some walks are so terribly scary and daunting, yet still, they must be done in solitude.
with a memory like mine it makes this season more difficult than not. i decided to remain in the epicenter of it all. to walk through the halls of where it all started, not to relive but to rebuild. though most are better than the rest, there certainly exist those awful days where the weight of what once was seems to implode and all that is left to sulk up these tears is the pillow beneath.
left haunted by the ghost of memories as each form shadows over me, and they hover- o how they hover. shadows become defining moments and it is this lie i violently shake off day after day after lifeless day, here in the epicenter of it all. even if an earthquake were to hit, though the ground shatter, these ghosts would remain. it is within this very revelation i gain the courage to stay, running is too easy. i don't want easy, i want to heal the open wound never to be reopened again by its source, rebuilding from new foundations and taking back the magic that this mountain town once gave me, claiming it as my own. i am now the carpenter, and that word alone begins to possess new meaning. because life is opening its arms to me, though i may limp towards its embrace, i do so in a direction away from decay. the wind blows, the rain falls, the sun shines- each day is so wildly unpredictable. it is the fear of waking up and stepping out my door that tells me this time right now is no mistake. here in the valley i learn to revel in the beauty of the mountain top.
here in the epicenter i am becoming a carpenter. though the chiseling hurt, it is forming something so very beautiful out of the ashes.
and so i beat on.
with a memory like mine it makes this season more difficult than not. i decided to remain in the epicenter of it all. to walk through the halls of where it all started, not to relive but to rebuild. though most are better than the rest, there certainly exist those awful days where the weight of what once was seems to implode and all that is left to sulk up these tears is the pillow beneath.
left haunted by the ghost of memories as each form shadows over me, and they hover- o how they hover. shadows become defining moments and it is this lie i violently shake off day after day after lifeless day, here in the epicenter of it all. even if an earthquake were to hit, though the ground shatter, these ghosts would remain. it is within this very revelation i gain the courage to stay, running is too easy. i don't want easy, i want to heal the open wound never to be reopened again by its source, rebuilding from new foundations and taking back the magic that this mountain town once gave me, claiming it as my own. i am now the carpenter, and that word alone begins to possess new meaning. because life is opening its arms to me, though i may limp towards its embrace, i do so in a direction away from decay. the wind blows, the rain falls, the sun shines- each day is so wildly unpredictable. it is the fear of waking up and stepping out my door that tells me this time right now is no mistake. here in the valley i learn to revel in the beauty of the mountain top.
“So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past.”
- F. Scott Fitzgerald
though i beat against this wicked current, as the memories of past should wash over, may it leave room for the life revealed in its place. may these words haunt me in substitution of said memories, may they never cease to carry me onward, upward. here in the epicenter i am becoming a carpenter. though the chiseling hurt, it is forming something so very beautiful out of the ashes.
and so i beat on.
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thank you for your words...xoxo