Coming Back to the Page

Sometimes when we are too long away from the page we fear it. Or maybe we fear ourselves. That our absence has taken us too far. How will we find our way back?

It is a form of trust to return to the emptiness and put our color down once more. Trust, that we still exist, that time has not stolen the core of us.

The weeks have taken me away. Too many things pressing. No chance to touch pastel to paper. And this morning I felt afraid. What was to fear? I found myself once again, there in the colors, speaking spirit and shape out of my soul into yours, even into mine.


"Falling" in soft pastels. By L.L. Barkat.

Illumination

I had been taught
to love the light,
the way it crisps color,
casts shape in my
sight, throws
shadows like
dancers on the
wind. I had been
taught to love
the light and
despise darkness
as if it only harbored
sin. What did I know
about the way light
lies, leads me
to think I know
the path to tread.
Darkness should
be, I was told,
a thing to dread
but as it goes
I'm steadied in it,
stilled, sculpted
into a magnet for
sound, a silent
one who's wise
to wait,
listen,
be
found.

More poetry at the High Calling: RAP: Nepotist's Delight