I am in the business of words.
It is my responsibility as an artist to shape them to fit the molds I create. It is my work, this word-crafting. I tease and weave and squeeze and sculpt letters into poems and stories and laughter and tears. I capture life in my mind’s lens, vibrant and heartbreaking and tender, and sit down at the computer screen to recreate the beauty. It is my art, and I love every little lovely second of it.
There are seasons when writing comes easy, because I have so many things to say. I am passionate and fiery and I am furious, on my soapbox with a megaphone, giving it to anyone who will lend an ear for even a moment. I will rage and rant and scold and beg until my throat runs dry, and even then I will shout until I am hoarse. However, those seasons come and go with new issues, current events and world wars and injustice, and we cannot always be in those seasons.
But when I once would have thought to write about every little detail around me, I am quiet. I notice the delicate, precious moments, and I tuck them in my heart for safekeeping. Because, truthfully, not all people will keep these moments safe. Some will look at the people I love and their seismic, glorious beauty, and shrug their shoulders because they do not understand. And perhaps, not all people have earned that beauty. Perhaps that beauty is not meant to be given for free.
His warm, brilliant laugh can’t be contained by darkness. I will always laugh with him.
Her fingers touch the keys with a respect that only comes from one knowing the strength of the other.
His eyes look around the room carefully, honest and thoughtful, a reflection of his soul.
Her smile, genuine for the first time in far too long, the most well-earned facial expression I have ever seen.
These are all treasures. They are beautiful things to behold, earned with time and trust.
I will continue to write, certainly. It is a love I cannot part with. But now, I write differently. Where I once couldn’t keep in the beauty, ready to burst with a joy that had to be captured, I am peaceful. I am full. I am quiet.
I watch each moment unfurl as each person blossoms into someone beautiful.
I fold the paper memories and tuck them in my breast pocket for safekeeping.