I can't write when I have too much to say.
This, this is a tight, frustrating, impossibly infuritating epiphany.
Because, a lot of the time, I just have a lot to say about a lot of things.
And I need words.
I love the way they can pour out the whole internal imprint of a heart.
Make the unknown known, and stagger with beauty.
I love how little they matter alone, how nothing a single word is, but how they shape up into strong something, weaving thoughts into concrete real when they find just the right places together.
So, it almost hurts. It kind of aches....When this passion gets so full, painful, how it also gets stuck, dammed up, held back.
Pages stay blank and thoughts stay invisible.
It seems my words can flow, passion pouring....but only when I've already chewed my insides down to almost nothing. When the blazing fiery fades, and just the organized pale has stuck around.
But when it's all in there, up to here, and I'm swimming, gasping in it... longing more to write it out, down, firm and clear...I can only come to pages and stare. Empty.
Passion tides swirl and slam the walls of my head and heart.
But still...the empty white page. No words.
Or, here, today...just words about words.
I don't really want to talk about words.
Really, I came to say...maybe to scream... "HOW COME?"
How come kids are starving and money is flowing, but not in the same places?
How come the ones I love deep don't know Him, don't know deep Love?
How come I feel so much and can change so little?
I came here hoping to shape these "How comes?" into something real, beautiful... to speak the unraveling mess into clarity.
But I can't. It all screeches to the tip of my tongue, the ends of my fingertips, and halts.
And then it's just so evident again
That I can't write when I have too much to say.