Let Him Find Himself Happy
Blow forth the winds
Bring on the rain
Let him see my face
And wash away my pain
Wisp the leaves up
Shift everything about
Let him find himself happy
And banish any doubt
I'm the one
I'll always be
Keep me in mind
Fall in love with me
I used to write. A decade ago a catalytic reaction occurred in my life that caused an upheaval of very raw and very unexpected emotion. People deal with events like that in many ways. Some turn to vice. Some turn to violence. Some turn to suicide. I turned to my notebooks, my keyboard, and LiveJournal. The event caused a torrent of creative energy to pour forth in an attempt to soothe the flames of exposed vulnerability. Writing saved me, and helped preserve the person I was underneath all the pain. I can't often read what I wrote back from those times, because I also see how fractured and fragmented I was. I hardly recognize myself. But because of events that transpired, I am who I am today, and I am grateful.
This poem was something that was borne out of that pain and the process of sifting through the hurt, the anger, and the sense of great loss. Some of my best creative writing was inspired by this muse, but I hope to never encounter her again. From mid 1999 until early 2005, I was truly broken.
Bring on the rain
Let him see my face
And wash away my pain
Wisp the leaves up
Shift everything about
Let him find himself happy
And banish any doubt
I'm the one
I'll always be
Keep me in mind
Fall in love with me
I used to write. A decade ago a catalytic reaction occurred in my life that caused an upheaval of very raw and very unexpected emotion. People deal with events like that in many ways. Some turn to vice. Some turn to violence. Some turn to suicide. I turned to my notebooks, my keyboard, and LiveJournal. The event caused a torrent of creative energy to pour forth in an attempt to soothe the flames of exposed vulnerability. Writing saved me, and helped preserve the person I was underneath all the pain. I can't often read what I wrote back from those times, because I also see how fractured and fragmented I was. I hardly recognize myself. But because of events that transpired, I am who I am today, and I am grateful.
This poem was something that was borne out of that pain and the process of sifting through the hurt, the anger, and the sense of great loss. Some of my best creative writing was inspired by this muse, but I hope to never encounter her again. From mid 1999 until early 2005, I was truly broken.