Return of the Words

You change, you move, you see things one way, then another. You cry, you scream, you kiss the world goodbye for an instant. You think, you consider, and consider and consider. You make your move. You hope you’re right. You scramble, you feint left, you faint right. You try and outstep your opponent, try to step away from the fight. You shift your mind to the world outside your doorway, you send your thoughts careening down subway tunnels on fast moving rickety trains. You see the world as it is for an instant, all blurs and colours and illusions, until it too is gone.

My creativity, long kept tucked away by school books, brain fog and mental health problems, has resurfaced. I grew up with words, with books, with an entire library at my fingertips, then two, then three libraries. I devoured books faster than the librarians ever expected. I devoured the other worlds that they showed me. And then somehow, things faded. The fiction got replaced with text books, the poetry could never be replaced by anything, plays disappeared behind the lights of the movies. It all just faded away for years.

Strength is where you find it, and it is often found in the most unlikely places.

The fiction arrived back first, in the form of the eBook reader that allowed me hundreds of out of copyright books free and instant. I found that even this Tolkien fan could definitely appreciate Jane Austen and that suddenly I had even more topics of conversation with my parents.

The poetry was always there, just hiding in music lyrics, tucked in the soft folds of the sheet music. It graced my lips while reading the inscriptions of poets, of kings, of fools. It couldn’t bear to leave and I couldn’t let it.

The plays have yet to return, but I think they are there, just biding their time until I am ready to receive them. They too will come.

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