I think, what I love about writing, is that it enables you to share. What I love most about reading is that it enables me to learn. More than that, it enables me to feel less alone. Sometimes, it gives me hope. Hope, understanding and insight. Which is what I love about writing the most; that something one person says, might make the world of difference to someone else.
I read this tonight, and it made me feel a slight glimmer of hope. Sharing it seemed better than focusing on the other things that are damaging everything I have worked for.
We never heard music but people made us dance anyway. we were pirouette children, we were fall leaves, we found ourselves floating between things with a vast emptiness that spoke of lacking. we were rarely happy, and when we were, we held too tightly to it. we grew up like this, with rot in our ribs, with sour on our tongues, with weakness in our backbones. we had no idea what we were doing wrong, only that we had to be messing up something, because everything hurt and nobody noticed our struggle.
but we: we faced darkness. we swallowed the nights that ripped us to pieces. we choked down food when we thought it would kill us. we swam laps in the broken glass of their words – we came out bleeding, we came out hurt – but we still stood with our feet on the shore and said, “I am here, I am here, and you cannot hurt me any more”
Lion. You were born of fire. you were born of the savannah wind, of running, of sides that heave, of summer nights that smell of dying. you were born to withstand it. you were born to hold the sickness down until it succumbed to you, not the other way around. lion cub, pelt made in the stars: you have fought to get where you are.
yes. the brilliant cold of winter is beginning to render you numb again. moss is sticking to your bones. mold is growing up from between your toes.
but lion, tired as you are, fallen from the sky, remember this: you are still jagged teeth and claws. your scars remember healing. you are still every ounce of light, of fury, of wild nights. you are still pride.
you are of the wild. it is in you, and you will survive.