I write about my life and life itself seen through my eyes for who can write through the experiences of others if not their own?

Thursday, April 01, 2010


A Passing Thought

Deep buried in the far end of oneself lies awake a feeling seemingly dormant or even dead to the fa├žade of our days.

Time passes as we move forward into another land taking little steps at first and then, encouraged by a fake recovery, huge leaps away from the feelings we try to run from.

It is a passing thought that hides in between layers of routine hitting our face like a gust of cold air in one of those warm mornings of summer. Sort of unexpected yet not totally.

Run away and shield behind a tree until it passes or stay and give in to it, face it, feel it, look it in the eye. There is the enticing coldness of the walls in the solitude of a room that so many times saw the tears when the hurt was so fresh that the breathing hurt too.

And then we remember the absence and we remember the hurt and we feel the void and remember the hurt again because remembering the hurt is the only way to escape from it until another passing thought opens a door we so long closed behind.