Recently I’ve been writing irregularly, but writing a lot. I am the worst at blogging regularly, and even worse at working on my novel. I usually stick with short poems or stories, because I’m so afraid at times of that word document that contains a little too much of me to be completely safe.
But tonight I opened my manuscript for the first time in a few weeks, and I wanted to share the most recent exert…
I have a little too much to consider tonight; that this not-so-commonplace man from Tennessee may have saved Jerry tonight, for one thing. And that Jerry’s smile just might be the only thing keeping me alive at this point.
I’m at home, on my roof, as usual. The stars shine so clear, so cold, a thousand sorrows in a midnight sky. They speak so eloquently, these fragments of light. Of plain men from Tennessee and women whose hearts are so kind they are fierce and girls whose eyes look like hope. Of madness in a pastor’s eyes and the heart of a whore’s child and the ceaseless pain of the parents who cannot save her. And, in whispers, of a light too deep, caught in the eyes of a boy named Jerry.
I stand, in limitless cold, in soft snow, and steady my feet on the slippery roof. I tilt my face up and brace myself for- what, exactly?
A collision, of sorts.
A collision, where stars come down to earth.
A collision, where infinite darkness becomes light.
A collision, where a carpenter is a king.