Drawing used to save me from painful noise. While Iistening to the soft scratches of a pencil, I created different worlds to live in. What kind of pain could I have had? The pain hid inside my body, it was from a child who had almost rooted in this world yet in the process got seperated from it’s fertile soil. It was done by people who called themselves parents. Ripped in pieces, my leaves and flowers were scattered. Shaken to the core, I did not grow above the ground anymore. My stem grew beneath the soil, my roots were hurt but still alive. The loneliness was dark, the plant did not feel like a plant of potential. Somehow I found beautiful people who watered me with love and trust. With their support I became strong enough to travel upwards and see the sun. Still the mud of older days clung onto my skin, sat on my tongue, swum in my belly. But day after day I changed. I shed deadskin, brushed my tongue with sounds, met the ocean in my belly and learned to surf. I said to myself no one is going to take my pencil away.
The girl who thought nothing was left
to be cherished and loved
is walking in this world
knowing the sun is shining everyday
even if we can’t see it
as clouds form
to water our seeds
