Writing myself down


I sit before the screen as words unfurl; skeins of thought untangle one by one. In silence I knit, undo, and knit again.


Above ground, the words grow, limb by limb, empty branches longing for spring. In the hidden place, the roots of wordless thought spread beneath the story that is me.




The truth is, words gnaw at my heart, so I release them. One thought leads to another; I follow, climb skyward, never looking down. I cling to fragile branches that cannot bear my weight. The trees I write, stripped of summer, grow from the tips of from my blue-stemmed hands. Blood flows from heart to paper, as it must.



The pattern is everywhere. Beauty divides and subdivides into frost, deltas, translucent wings, agates, cells, copper crystals, numbers, and the red river within. Trees of fire touch earth in storms; neurons branch into life. I am part of the pattern. Sentences flow onto paper; the waters merge, drowning me again and again.



I write the bridge I walk on. Behind me, the past swallows my path. I long to write myself home, a place I’ve never been. Will these words carry me there?



Had I been free to write these many years, I would have had the time to write myself mad. All those doors shut, the daily tasks that blocked my way, disappointments stealing so much time, every one another mercy.


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Copper crystals:  By Paul from Enschede, The Netherlands (Dendritic Copper Crystals) [CC-BY-SA-2.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0)%5D, via Wikimedia Commons

Sand patterns:  David Lally [CC-BY-SA-2.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0)%5D, via Wikimedia Commons

Colorado dry river delta:  U.S. Geological Survey 
Department of the Interior/USGS
U.S. Geological Survey/photo by Pete McBride

Veins: http://www.radpod.org/2006/11/08/cerebral-arteriovenous-malformation/

Dr. Marina-Portia Anthony

Frost: Joe Lencioni, shiftingpixel.com

Wing venationhttp://bugs.bio.usyd.edu.au/

Neuron: http://www.plosbiology.org/article/info:doi/10.1371/journal.pbio.0040029






14 thoughts on “Writing myself down

  1. I love how you write the bridge you walk on… there are those who believe that with words, the universe was created… as for myself, the world seems so fragile to me today, that I am grateful to hang on to a few words that remind me of the warmth of the hearth, and the smells of home… always a pleasure reading yours, my dear yearstricken.

  2. How I love sitting in the shadow of your word trees, admiring the beauty of the branches and the patterns they make, feeling warmed by the word sweaters you knit, and being filled with the beauty that your writing brings to my life. Thank you, YS!

  3. iltana

    It’s a true pleasure to read your words! “I write the bridge I walk on. Behind me, the path swallows my past” – BEAUTIFUL!!!

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