Ghosts of days gone by ,long feared remembrances that will come again and the truth they will lay at our feet. Bittersweet recollections of what we would have done if we could have been the way we wanted and not what we were. Memory.. the hammer and anvil..
On this day though.. I shall forge them anew.. and with each stroke. the smithy song will be heard to me.. and these memories now being cast will be a work that I will not fear.. but celebrate in their artistry
Understanding the pieces of ones own Deconstruction can be a life altering event unto itself. It occurred to me as I examined the parts of me to keep and the ones to replace.. there were some that simply did not exist. I had to “make” them.
This “event” of writing represents that