A blog is a terrible thing to waste
Words - my shield, my weapon of choice, my solace, my refuge.
Words often come to me at the most inopportune times … when I’m asleep, when I’m sitting with no way of recording their importance, their urgency.
Words of fiction, of fantasy, of fact.
Words end up scribbled on random scraps of paper, the back of a used envelope, the inside cover of a nearby notebook, notecards - oh so many notecards.
Words come, persistent, alarming, emotional, stoic, clinical, and timid - some words slither, some assault, some whisper from the shadows, barely, if at all, perceptible - but even those refuse to be ignored - coming back to the fore and demanding immediate, undivided attention.
Words I will honour here - on this disused, misused blog.
A place, a chance to give voice to the words that haunt me, that tease me from the depths of past trauma, from an inimitable imagination.
No comments:
Post a Comment