Sunday 20

Hunched up against the wall again, a stack of three pillows between the wall and the bed and my bent back, I’m seeing all the things in my room under new light. I’ve really built a safe magical place for myself to grow. Rocks line the walls and the floor, hold overused candles and form small walls surrounding groups shells. One rock stands at the end of a row of old books, keeping them upright and close together and each book is sacred to me and has served as a friend in helping me trust life itself over people’s unsatisfactory ideas about it. I hold words close and find comfort in their promise and their quiet advice, I keep going back to this poem by William Alexander Percy; ‘I have a need of silence and of stars, Too much is said too loudly. I am dazed. The silken sound of whirled infinity, Is lost in voices shouting to be heard.’


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