The damage that was done; the treasures that prevail

Water, is taught by thirst.
Land - by the Oceans passed.
Transport - by throe -
Peace - by its battles told -
Love, by Memorial Mold -
Birds, by the Snow.

--Emily Dickinson

Chiaroscuro. Light-dark. In every light moment, the threat of darkness; in the midst of darkness, light. My December and January have been just that.

After Silence

I came to explore the wreck.
The words are purposes.
The words are maps.
I came to see the damage that was done
and the treasures that prevail.
--Adrienne Rich, Diving Into the Wreck

It's been almost two years since I've written a word, even in my own journal. My last entry is from a year and a half ago, from the hospital, when I didn't think my mind would ever work again. The gears still grind sometimes, and the two years of just surviving, of desperately clinging to whomever and whatever seemed to stop the black hole from swallowing me up again, left no time for words, little time for thought, and a lot of wreckage--a career sabotaged, friendships abandoned, a marriage I helped destroy. I am still not well, but better, better enough for words, for love, for repentance, for sorting through the wreckage and salvaging what I can.