Things being written, being spoken then being heard are hard.  I often don’t absorb them and take them in as truth because honestly truth is hard to believe.  When it’s from someone who loves me, my own soul or God Himself I struggle to take in the words and allow them to flow over my aching heart.

I have never heard truth before.  Only lies.

Truth is necessary though.  To moving forward, to letting pain fall away and to allow shame to hit the ground.  Allowing the words to take root in my soul and push out the roots of pain that have grownfor years has not been easy and so I have adopted a way of making it known to myself in in more, semi permanent way.

I write it on my skin, in bold, black Sharpie marker.

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I allow the words I have written to become truth.  To sink into my flesh, my spirit and my soul just as the Sharpie sits and sinks into my skin.

Last Friday (December 6) was a bad, shit-aversary for me.  I woke up wanting to run, to hate the day, crawl back under the covers and make it go away.  Somewhere in the silence though (and a prompt from the 40 days of poetry group) I found words and truth and from down inside I found the very things I have been looking for.

Truth.

Words.

Sinking in.

I wrote this based on the prompt.

::Sister Soul::

He took

She took

They took – all of it

You sceamed inside

Unheard

Pounding your bloodied fists against the door of your heart

“Hear me NOW”

“See me NOW”

Whispered words of shame, blame and fault for actions not of your consent.

“Death would be better”

I heard you whisper

Sister Soul – Daughter of God

I whisper to you now

Those doors are open

Though you still wail in grief and sorrow

No more Sister Soul do you have to scream to be heard

Heard – you ARE

Seen – you ARE

Soul naked – not in shame

Naked in rawness Sister Soul

Daughter of God

Naked to be seen

Brave to be heard

An incarnation of cervical, messy blood stained birth we are – my Sister, my Soul

Not born of shame

Born of truth

We are risen

Not DEAD

My Sister Soul – Daughter of God

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When the words started to flow out, through my fingers I felt healing come.  A reclaiming of a shitty day, horrible memories and things I haven’t wanted to let go of.  Another person’s shame that I have wanted to continue carrying as my own, but it’s not mine; it’s theirs.

As I took the Sharpie to my skin, in places that had been hurt and wrote words of love I was able to feel the shame drop.  The blame I have carried wash away and the ache of my soul for year’s old pain dim.

What I am doing now

I am hosting a blog series through December and into January called “It is Written”

I have several AMAZING bloggers, poets, artists and friends that are contributing and putting their hurt, words and skin on the screen for you all to read and absorb.

Tomorrow I’ll be kicking off the series with a post from one of my dearest heart friends.  She has seen grief that I can only try to imagine yet the way she walks through it marks BRAVERY on her heart.

So stay tuned, it’s going to be a beautiful month here.

As Always,

Bethany

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