If I Could Do It Again

Image of a clock obscured by bokeh

The following was inspired by a writing exercise I participated in recently, hosted by author, Beth Kempton as part of her Winter Writing Sanctuary. 

If I could do it again

I would love more.

I would speak my way to the truth

and it wouldn’t matter if my voice was heard at all

above the roar of the silence,

the cold,

the betrayals.

 

If I could do it again

I would tell my secrets.

I would brave the shame.

I would rise up and lead with courage,

my voice a tremulous whisper

speaking truth to the darkness and the unbelieving.

 

If I could do it again

I would ride the joy of my child’s spirit.

I would turn my face skyward, fling wide my arms

and feel the brilliance of the winter’s sun on my skin.

 

If I could do it again

I would resist the pull of the current,

the grasping of unseen hands, scrabbling, seeking to pull me under.

I would let the unsoiled love, pure & clean, expand in my chest

and lift me out of the cold, dark deep.

I would let the light of my child’s innocence radiate out of my face, 

eyes glistening with tears unshed,

full of hope and freed from the deception of gravity.

 

If I could do it again

I would believe.

I would sing & draw & paint my world into existence.

I would shutter my eyes to the ugliness

and muffle my ears to the lies that tell me I can’t

in a voice that clangs shut a door to the only future that holds light,

condemning me to a dreary life of grey and dripping with regret.

 

If I could do it again

I would.

I would know that I could,

that my future was waiting for me,

patiently sipping tea & tapping its foot in time to the rhythm of my heart’s beating,

whispering the words of my salvation,

“Come to me. Come to me.

It’s not too late.”

All rights reserved. Copyright Carolynn Anctil.