I am holding a young leaf. In the green I see the glow and the paths dispersing toward the edges. Each path is unique and I wish I could read them like the old woman in the fairy tales.

I can follow the curves… less the angles and, as a bad tea leaf reader, I try to guess where I shouldn’t.

This is when you stop me trying to control the damage. Patiently you pick up the pieces of me scattered on the dusty floor of the castle of my dreams. You leave all the spiders’ webs intact and barely touch the darkness swallowing the dimed moon rays from the south tower.

Your hand seem so firm as you construct the mosaic that will be me not as I was but as you want me to be. Strong, patient, confident, careful and thick skinned.

I hope you succeed and sometimes I like your work on me: I like the smile you pull on my lips when tears keep running down.

I curve myself in your silence and feel safe in this controlled indifference spiced by your care.

How can you see anything worthwhile in all these uneven pieces? Would you create a new leaded glass for the castle, welding behind your protective helmet, as I used to watch you?

You were always the king of sparks and glitter. I used to force myself to look away to not hurt my eyes when you made all better. Now you are working with my self-esteem, my broken heart and my tears to make it all come back to life and bring some color and light back into the abandon castle. Would I be sufficient once mended to bring enough blood to sustain the next climb into the central staircase?

Would all the lead between the brittle glasses make me stronger? Will people be intrigued, admire the work done or only see the fractures and mutilations?

I can’t read the leaf and my tea is now cold but I know you presence is the path going back to the light.


16 thoughts on “NERVES EXTRACTION

  1. I’m telling you, if I keep reading your work I’m going to want to try to write like you. My stuff is so concrete and lacking of mood (compared to yours, I mean). I’m afraid that if I were to try to capture the magic that flows so easily from you into your words, I would fail and lose my way completely. I just have to be me, you know? Write what comes natural to me. But next lifetime, I’m going to write with some of the magic that you’ve been given… I hope.


    • Only you can make it happen. Never write like others. Stories are gifts you are creating with all your being and generosity.
      This is ironic but you made me feel my writing has still some magic even if the gift isn’t going to the beast. It is running on empty but it has to continue running out until all is dried and my heart has stopped. Your main character wants to drown herself, I couldn’t, I can only dry myself. We are opposite.
      This is a mirror in a mirror and diamonds facets inside, I write in a foreign language, I can’t write in mine, ideas are not coming to me, I feel them cohabiting in my body, bursting when all is too strong and tears aren’t enough.
      I laugh often, you know, a silly little laugh about silly little things.
      Keep writing dig into the nightmares and into the bliss because you have way more talent than me.


      • You know, that was the sweetest, kindest most generous thing a writer of you huge talent could possible say to me. I appreciate it and will cherish it to my dying day, even though I don’t hold a candle to you, honestly.

        Thank you also for your excellent advice: “Never write like others.” I’ll try to absorb the freedom and joy in those words.

        I’m glad to hear that you laugh often. I need to do a lot more of that.

        Here’s a thought I wrote to myself this morning before the day woke up and found me… Don’t insist on an outcome with your writing or anything else in life. Just focus on enjoying the process and trying to bring your version of God into it. Don’t insist that reality conform to your world view or religious view. Have trust in God that the answers to the big questions will be great answers that would make logical sense from a higher perspective. Don’t insist that the answers you have be the same ones that God has.”

        I wrote this to myself. If I’d written it for someone else I would have tried to tone down the use of the word “God” to try and avoid being misunderstood as a fundamentalist. I’m not. I respect them, but I’m not one of them anymore.

        Liked by 1 person

      • Faith has many faces.
        Trust and passion are in it while one give you peace the other will induce a powerful fever
        Both are useful to creation both are magical
        Artists that denies one or the others can only fail in denying who they are and becomes frauds.
        This is when you start listening to other voices and create to assert power over others
        Then you can loose all
        ” don’t insist in the outcome is right.”
        I let the fever speaks and moan so my heart can trust again
        Then peace will be back
        Hope I am not tiering you too much

        Liked by 1 person

      • Thank you. Your writing and your thinking could never tire anyone.

        “I let the fever speak and moan so my heart can trust again.”

        This should be framed and placed on the wall in front of me. Thank you so much.


      • All I am saying is that I agree with you.
        You made drastic changes in your life and very courageous decisions,
        All to find who you are and write.
        Your freedom is precious so precious you will have many who will try to destroy it. The beast told me that once and he was right while I was facing my own challenges
        You have an ability to structure your work I envy
        So go and fly


  2. Pingback: Tea | maggiequinn

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