The homecoming.

Once upon a time, a paralyzed pen sought respite from the anguish of sporadically coughing out words from her tainted mouth. Words that rose like unwilling ghosts from the graves of self-doubt, words that clogged the air angrily like hissing curses bellowed by a moneylender, words that leapt into the breeze like brilliant sparks from a funeral pyre, words that bounced off unwilling hearts with the persistent beauty of unrequited love, words that appeared like magic from the nothingness of an empty soul. Of course, the pen bound herself in a silent prison- a self imposed exile from the cruel realm of words. She starved herself- her monastic existence preserved an austere stillness, where reflection wasn’t allowed to exist. She was waiting for faith.

Finally her ink burst through the fearsome bars of her sepulchral prison and came out in a blue streak of pure violence. The dam had shattered, the river had broken loose, and it flowed serenely towards the inky horizon in smooth contours of confident words. I’m back and faith is back with me.