Necrologicos

Writing is a form of necromancy,
digging up what you thought was dead
what you believed was never even alive,
what you believed could never even exist,
only to discover that not only does it breathe,
but that it was the one breathing for you all along

The Life I Didn’t Know

…A simple thing it is to write about what we want others to see about us. Not so simple it is to write what we have hidden from ourselves either deliberately or intentionally. It is all the same. What is hidden is that which we don’t want ourselves or others to know, but what is hidden has no less an impact on our lives. I have never known the heat or nature of the surface of the sun, but that does not mean that the surface of the sun is without power in my life. My life, to be exact, had always seemed to be a pebble bouncing across the surface of a lake, ripples racing outward as the light of the sun danced in between the valleys of the tiny crested waves. Magically, the pebble would avoid the fate of falling to the bottom of the deep waters, and by some uncanny will it would persist this lateral and repetitive movement. Pointless and uninteresting did it all seem especially after so many years, and yet I have now found that if I had looked perhaps a bit closer upon it, I would have seen two invisible hands alternating the responsibility of keeping the pebble above the water: one called Fear, the other called Pride, both called Hope…