To write means to rip open, to remember, all of it, you.
To catapult you into the night sky and see you dissipate in
A universe that I created. To let your voice fade away amongst the many.
Let you reincarnate different spheres and bodies invisible.
It means letting you go, liberating myself, bringing me back to earth.
I’m putting you to rest so that I can breathe and write you out.
To write means releasing tension, holding images then and there.
Writing is exorcising. It’s calling all my saints and steering the
Heartbroken into a hopeful direction. Recomposing the torn pieces.
And I’m listening to the damned that I didn’t love and protect.
They should have seen the light when I shoved them into darkness.
I’m putting life on paper and their eyes are all on me and they are freed too.
“Ophelia / Pause for Thought” by Pierre Auguste Cot (1837-1883)
