07-15-2019, 08:54 AM
(This post was last modified: 07-15-2019, 01:44 PM by Quixilated.)
I have had this in my drafts. It never feels like the right time. The words never quite feel ready.
——-
I don’t know what to say. Shock only seems to pave the way to denial. I keep editing and changing the words, but they never seem to get it right. I haven’t been able to bring myself to post them out in the open. These words shouldn’t have to exist at all. There should never have been occasion to use them.
I thought she was like Athena, magical, wise, and fierce, defending us all with her glittering word-sword. Whenever there was trouble, she would roll her words into electric balls of fury, barbed with wit and humor. She was the oncoming storm, the thrill of a change in the wind when the sky grows dark and there is a rumble in the distance. It was breathtaking. So many times she made me feel safe, protected.
How is it possible for a person to play with words so easily? She made poetry look effortless and the words never failed to be gorgeous and potent and layered with meaning.
And yet, she was kind, gentle and wise, a teacher through and through. When I first joined the site, I felt like I was constantly stepping on toes and bumping into walls, and it was almost too much and I was going to run away. I did run away for a while. She spoke to me in private and gave me words of encouragement and advice. She always seemed to know when I was feeling wobbly and would say or do something to make the world go right again.
Nothing I say here seems enough or right. But she meant something to me, more than she probably realized.
——-
I don’t know what to say. Shock only seems to pave the way to denial. I keep editing and changing the words, but they never seem to get it right. I haven’t been able to bring myself to post them out in the open. These words shouldn’t have to exist at all. There should never have been occasion to use them.
I thought she was like Athena, magical, wise, and fierce, defending us all with her glittering word-sword. Whenever there was trouble, she would roll her words into electric balls of fury, barbed with wit and humor. She was the oncoming storm, the thrill of a change in the wind when the sky grows dark and there is a rumble in the distance. It was breathtaking. So many times she made me feel safe, protected.
How is it possible for a person to play with words so easily? She made poetry look effortless and the words never failed to be gorgeous and potent and layered with meaning.
And yet, she was kind, gentle and wise, a teacher through and through. When I first joined the site, I felt like I was constantly stepping on toes and bumping into walls, and it was almost too much and I was going to run away. I did run away for a while. She spoke to me in private and gave me words of encouragement and advice. She always seemed to know when I was feeling wobbly and would say or do something to make the world go right again.
Nothing I say here seems enough or right. But she meant something to me, more than she probably realized.