Saturday Scribbles – Ghosts and Fire



I’ve been neglectful the last few weeks with my scribbles and such and I’ve missed being away. As of late, I’ve been distracted by two of my biggest fears and have been trying desperately to wrestle them into submission… My heart and my writing

Much soul-searching, giving up on old ghosts, and facing the reality of some lies I’ve believed for too long went down over the course of the last four weeks.

I’ll address the easier of the two first…my heart. The writing we’ll save for another scribble.

A few years ago I gave my heart to a boy. Unfortunately, I gave it to him before I truly knew myself or what I was capable of or what I deserved. Despite his words leading me to believe otherwise, he didn’t want my heart after all and it crushed me. I held on, quite tragically, to his ghost far longer than I should have. I made the mistake of comparing others to the way he once made me feel and to the potential I always saw in him and in us. (Potential will get you in trouble every time) This was unfair…to him and to those that followed behind him.

Over my recent vacation, our paths crossed again and I was offered the opportunity to face this ghost head on.  And with no small amount of courage…I did. I sat down at a table in a deli and had a long overdue conversation with the boy who was given and broke my heart. No words were spoken of the past. Only words of whom we had become and where we were headed and there was freedom and release in these words. He was different, as he should be after years of life. And miraculously, I finally let him go.

I realized sitting across from him, listening to his story of the last few years, how different I had become too…and how much more of me there is now. I’m more myself than he ever experienced. He was given a young raw passionate heart, easily given and easily angered. He got a version of my heart that had not yet been tested and found worthy of life.

Years of darkness followed his break, which actually had nothing to do with him at all. Life and tragedy happened. Other breaks, far more painful, happened. And I realize now, this inevitable darkness would have destroyed him had he stayed. The heart held in my chest today came as a result of that darkness; bathed and refined by fire and grief and battle.

Sadly, I hid this new heart away for a while, thinking it too tragic and ugly to be seen. I hid it away thinking if he couldn’t love the unbroken heart, no one could love this now war torn version; even if I had come to cherish every burn and stitch and scar. I fooled myself for years….

The truth finally settled into place when I let his ghost go for good that day at lunch…. The heart I carry in my chest today is the most beautiful yet…scarred and stitched and wiser and surprisingly more. And worthy of light….

The scribble below arrived while cleaning out some emails a couple days ago. In this new light, I realized the new heart I thought I was hiding so well, didn’t go unseen at all. There was one who saw it and was not afraid. But blinded by my own crippling fear, it was I who didn’t see him.

I regret treating him so unkindly, for pushing him away. I didn’t see it then. If I met him today I would not hide. But he is gracious and he is happy with another now and for that I am grateful. I will never know what might have been with this one if I had let him past my armor, but at least I know there really are those who see and are unafraid of this passionate, scarred, and terribly beautiful heart….


He woke me up, sparked a flame,

and fearing the heat he created,

left me to rage and to burn….

Leaving no one to reign in the blaze.


You craved the heat, unafraid of my rage.

You would have remained until I was nothing but ash….

And then breathed your own life into the cinders,

So I could burn and rage again.


Instead….I chose the pyres.


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