After years of nudging the tie was finally severed, and exaltation ensued. What once had been a tug-of-war, a cajoling to trust where words were not allowed to tip toe through fear or hurt, was now a vast openness. A great, rickety scaffolding built around air, around the lack of substance and words unspoken, or spat too loud, had toppled leaving only whispers of past structures playing in the wind: “Trust. Trust in me even though I react with daggers and thorns. Trust that my reaction is that of an honest and moral man. If you trust, you will have no need to discuss it. If you trust, you will not bat an eye when I enter knowingly into questionable situations.”
I look at my past as a great font of inspiration, a well of stories blurred by emotions, bubbling, waiting to be tapped, watered into the flowers, misted onto the hornet’s nest and settled in words and art.
Tonight I will toast myself for having a light & happy Valentine’s Day.
Through tangled slabs of cracked cement,
Through hot summers’ winds and sun,
Through rattlings loud and sonorous,
This tiny tree did grow.
Prints of my dear tree available here.