I’m afraid to write
because I know some
horrible stabbing truth
is waiting for me there in between the words.
Some pure terrible
light of truth is sticking
out between the innocuous dark letters.
And as I lay down my words,
as I pat them
into place, I will prick my fingers on that truth
and bleed real blood.
Words are roses with thorns.
Try to write a verse. You will have to grip the dread rose with your mind,
and you will be bloodied.
Everything requires blood.
Everything has
a price.
Even if I run away from words, if I curl up and refuse to
write,
the thorns will be waiting for me in a song or book or
movie,
one line here, a few words there of bright agonizing truth.
I cannot escape it.
Know thy self the Sibyl commands.
 |
| Pythia by Candice Raquel Lee |
For this, one must have fingers of steel, a thick skin, a
heart that
does not quaver at the stabbings of truth.
So, I will write because there is no hiding
from
the thorns on the roses in the garden of life.Candice Raquel Lee
Author of The Innocent: A Novel
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