Speaking the Truth

I am writing but not to post anything of consequence, though I have succeeded in doing just that tonight. Four months of words on paper whose ink has yet to dry. And I sit here slightly dazed of what I've had to say. Truth, even coming from my own mouth is hard to swallow. Truth like light diminished, still capable of shining with the smallest of refractions.

And I am speaking to my own truths now. Speaking in order to hear myself. The voice I've ignored because I thought it would be easier not to hear. But the truth is I never stopped listening.

Lies, like water can evaporate, but both eventually return in another form. In the punishment of rain; in the silence of snow.

- The Language of Good-Bye
Maribeth Fischer