My Blank CanvasOct 08, 2021
How do you begin to explain what for seems an eternity, you've only wanted to scream and shout the unwritten? Had I become so comfortable in this silent space that I lost the need to speak?
This is My Blank Canvas
Life's color had long been replaced with a fiction I pretended to disconnect from - disown. Your history no longer has ownership; you freely give it away. It lies waiting beneath the facade you keep. Until -
A smell, a song, a bitter taste, or a blank journal (which I call My Blank Canvas) reminds you of its longing. In a small chapel, sitting alone, praying for anything or nothing - a gift appears on the pages - words. These are those words.
I sat in a tiny chapel holding an empty journal. It was a modest red journal I'd received that morning. It was the first day of a weekend retreat for Women Survivors of Abuse. I attended - not because I need to you see - but to see - maybe to hear - by God to be heard. The journal grounded in my hands begged entry, but I'd barely spoken let alone written what desired escape.
My eyes stared upward at the stained glass circle bathing the pews in beautiful color. The risen Christ smiled as He floated with firmness through the sunlit rays penetrating the room. My relationship with Him could easily be described as complicated and even harsher so - lacking. And, here I was with only Him. I knelt and prayed. What for? I haven't the faintest idea. For words - not His or mine - just something to put in this awful blank journal! In all truth, I was terrified they would check to see I had done something.
Why He answered my muttered request cannot be explained, but I thank Him every day and pray He provides for me an openness wherein only He can fill. This series of poems might seem disordered - nonsense even - but they are His words, and I know deep within me they are not only meant for me. I never ask; I write as long as He allows.
Please understand I'm no writer, no poet, I'm a woman who in her undeserved, unwilling asking received life-giving breath when I required oxygen. I must exhale to share this breath because we all long for within the emptiness of our unique, individual suffering. Every one of us provides hue to His wondrous palette - Breathe, know when you cannot find your place among life's faded color, God will return to you - A Blank Canvas.