There is music that inspires you to lift your face to the sky, crank up the volume, and thrust your hand out the car window, letting the air play with your fingers. I’ve always wished I could sing, inject longing into a song, the melody in every ache and sigh. My voice carrying me when I don’t know how to.
I can’t sing, but I’m learning to pick up a word, turn it this way and that, hold it to the sun and make it belong. Words are magic. Taking me to lands unknown, soaring through icy blue skies, then plummeting, crashing to earth. Words punch holes through barriers. Twisting and reaching until they grab a hold of me and come pouring out. Writing is gasping and clutching and lonely until I arrive at the end wasted, surrendered.
I can’t sing, but I have a voice here. In writing. I fling my arms wide in revelation, I wring my hands in uncertainty and I am quiet in discovery. I am happiest when words come to rest and in agony when they’re darting in and out of my head, teasing me. Words shock and awe, provoke and comfort, haunt and dazzle. They wait for me. And when I need them, they carry me.
More story to come. It’s a busy, busy week! Sorry to my lovely blogging friends…I’ll come by to visit when I can, I swear! I’ll send out a proper update soon for those of you that so kindly gave me your email addresses. You can follow me on Twitter or Facebook – just click at the top right hand corner of the site.