Blank pages

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in these moments
I am reminded
of what can’t be erased
the essence of you
engraved into my bones

all the words you said
rest in my throat
waiting to become breath
and these blank pages
ache for it

but how do I lay you down
on paper
and offer you to the world

how do I lay you down
without losing
what is ours

how do I write you
without unraveling
the way you live in me
into something
the world can hold

there is a version of you
time cannot take
it lingers
in the spaces I forget to guard

even now
you exist in fragments
and I am still learning
how to carry them

so
how do I give you away
in words and still keep
what’s left of you
for me

21 thoughts on “Blank pages”

  3. There is a great opportunity for catharsis when we write from our own experiences. But, it must be said that there can sometimes be great risk. When we share what is ours…relationships, experiences, feelings…with others it is indeed just that – shared. And does that make it less ours? Perhaps. But, perhaps sharing it makes it more real. Exposes it to the light and it cures like concrete and paint to become the sturdiest version of itself. That’s how it lasts a lifetime…perhaps a 1,000 lifetimes.

    It’s been said that only artists live forever through their art. So, be brave. Write. Put your “trembling confessions” in the “Saffron Light” of the ink. And you never know what “Constellations” may form in the words.

    Reply

    • There is a risk in that exposure. It can be misunderstood or feel like something intimate has been handled too roughly. But there’s also a kind of strength that comes from it. As you said, it “cures”, it settles, hardens, and becomes more durable. Over time, what was once fragile or private can become something structured and enduring, no longer just felt but formed. Maybe sharing doesn’t make it less ours, but allows it to exist in two places at once: within us, and in the world, where it can last, evolve, and resonate beyond us in ways we can’t fully predict.

      Maybe that is how it lasts a lifetime…. perhaps a 1,000 lifetimes. Again, thank you for your thoughts, they sure are beautiful, just like you.

      Reply

  6. This is a really powerful piece that speaks insightfully into the limitations of language and expression. How, afterall, do we speak of someone so essential to us that our sensation of them is instinctual and fundamentally non-verbal, without actually diminishing them, presenting them as someone other than who they are, either through imprecision or misinterpretation?

    Reply

    • Thank you for such a thoughtful reflection. This is a central dilemma of human experience: how do we articulate the essence of someone so deeply intertwined with us, when language inevitably falls short? Words are tools, but they reduce the complexity of a person who is so vital to us that their presence feels instinctual, beyond verbal expression.

      In trying to describe them, we risk misrepresentation,whether through imprecision or oversimplification. Yet, the very act of attempting to express this connection speaks to their importance. We may never find the perfect words, but perhaps it’s in the effort itself, in trying to capture the inexpressible, that we honor what they truly mean to us.

      Thanks again. It’s nice to see you, I hope you’re well!

      Reply

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