a draft in the house

my wordpress account has turned into an attic… drafts piling up quicker than dust on out of use stereo components. including this one, i have 14 drafts in the box over here. like a sonnet: fourteen indecisions. fourteen fragments. fourteen ways to begin to develop a thought.

tonight i think: i have still not become a wearer of make-up. i have not learned to dress my face, decided on rouge or blue to smooth my cheek or develop my eye. 

i have been thinking about this story – a story of a woman who draws brilliant orange clementines from under her cloak and offers them with a silent blink of the eye to each beggar she passes in the street or subway hall. 

i have been thinking of reconciliation – the peace we must make with ourselves, the peace we try to make with others, the peace with which we must have patience enough to leave a door always unlocked, even if it is too cold and the wait too long to leave it completely open.

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About scribblelip

walking down the road with a book of conjugations in my hand.
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