Where the Light Enters

“The wound is the place where the Light enters you.” — Rumi

I wrote a line once, “All I breed is death.”
Born of loss. Born of the one thing I wanted more than anything, slipping through my fingers.

I wrote a few lines once, “I was the fire, burning through life, leaving blackened, charred rubble in my wake.  The message repeated itself over and over again – I am the fire.”
It’s what it feels like to watch your greatest dreams burn down – more than once.

I once wrote thousands upon thousands of words about a twin flame kind of love. The hero was my perfect man. I didn’t realize until the words were spent, that he was the villain and not the hero.
This is what happens when a writer falls in love with a selfish, faithless man, and doesn’t realize it until she’s heartbroken.

But if I wrote my real story, no one would believe me. So, the truth of my life is sprinkled in bits and pieces – in a line or two that perfectly describes my life – in between people and experiences that are as far from my truth as east is from the west.

As I break myself open via lines on paper – healing seeps in a little deeper, into the fissures of my heart, healing what once didn’t have words.