Resurrection

A flood has robbed me of much of my writing and many of my memories, so I have come back to my journal to see which poems and musings still survive. I return here not so much because I believe that what I have to say is important, but because writing gives me roots. Looking through past entries, I see how much of a soul I once had. Reading through the years, it as if I am reading the words of a different woman. I am shocked at the girl I once was. What of her is still left within me? Words, however poorly structured or tritely chosen, once created a frame for the essence I desired to be. So many things have changed…the men I have moved through, the losses I have suffered, the growth I have experienced…my blue-eyed boy is now a reality set in a stone more literal than I could have imagined. And in him becoming real I have both gained somthing and lost something. My father is still a force that I am unable to reckon with. I no longer have a place I feel comfortable calling “home” and I know that has changed me. I am now more of a confidant than a daughter. I am a bride-to-be. I am a teacher. I am less of a musician than I once was, but more of a scholar. I am so many things that I have forgotten to be. I am resurrected…