My writing is like stitches. The small verses, sentences and words are drops of blood. Ink. From a razor sharp fountain pen. Painting a picture of the hurt and the joy. Like a tattoo the journey is stitched onto my skin. Never leaving, yet fading as time passes. The words I wrote during this time could not be shared in the midst of the storm. Like you can’t explain what it's like to drown while still being under water. The metaphors are plenty. The journey one. The journey of life. And sometimes that journey is about experiencing, sometimes it is about reflecting. Then integrating. And sometimes that journey is about sharing.

I am now at the next stop. The bleeding has come to a halt. The words formed under the pressure of grief and hurt have stitched up the wound. The scar is the product of this process. A collection of short texts, something like poetry. But not quite. Something that does not neatly fit into a box of contemporary judgement. It is a piece of my heart. And as such I will not force it to fit in. I will not force it to adapt. Not for my own ego. not for anyone else's. 
 
It is truly a remarkable process. Walking into the underworld and then coming back. Walking in the land of the dead, howling with the wolves. It is quite a painful process. But, as it turns out, it did bring me something for the road. Something to take back to the top side of the world. A small flickering light. Something to hold up in front of me as I walk through darkness. To help me move forward. One small step at a time. As I walk this path, without seeing it fully the light expands. Little by little. And at some point I’m hoping it can cast a light for someone else too. That is the next step of the journey. Sharing. A small piece of this light. With anyone who feels drawn to it. When all of our lights collide we will be able to see how to move forward. By the huge firework of our passionate hearts. Can’t wait to see the show!

~ Madeleine
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