IF I WROTE TO YOU…

WHITE CHAIR

WHITE CHAIR

If I wrote to you would you answer?

Not because you won’t but because you haven’t.

Is it because of all those things I said on pages? I don’t know what else to say that would erase all those words expressed with pen to paper. On those pages euphoria of time and place got the better of me. And you know why.

If I wrote to you would you answer?  Because I’m at a loss…. and lost because of the finish. The finality. The ending. This I know…there are no words that apologies already expressed would or could make it better. Make it different.

That is the sorry.  And, yes sadness.

Great sadness.

There is no cause to replay the smiles.

The touches.

The kiss that missed.

The grins.

The tears.

Words, without harming intent became gushing sounds of desperation. Looking back that is probably what you heard.  They were not those kinds of words.

Desperate words.

No.

Definitely.

Not.

If I wrote to you would you answer?  There will be no other day to ask if you are doing fine.  If you are well. There will be no other day to speak of mundane things like friends do. To share the splendor of the moment. There will be no other day leading to days because I have to be done with sorry and sadness.

If you wrote to me…would I answer?

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76 thoughts on “IF I WROTE TO YOU…

  1. Raye,
    I know it’s not just me because I read the comments and somehow you have the ability to grab a person and emotionally shake them awake. This roller coaster of a post first filled my eyes with color and brightness and beauty (and even dust motes) and then your words filled them with tears. It is only fiction to those who have not loved.
    Your work doesn’t simple inspire emotion Raye, it reaches in and grabs it! I love you for that!
    John

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    1. Oh, John…if I didn’t have a meeting to attend within the very next 25 minutes…my mascara would be running down my cheeks (face cheeks let’s be clear). And…about your own new direction…I get it. I so get it. You not only have my friendship but admiration, as well. We have a mutual A&F society all our own. Loving you back. Raye

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      1. You know, I’ve just reread your words and thankfully am not wearing mascara as I would be a fright. Tonight these words brought me to a whole ‘nother place…. They say tears cleanse. ‘Tis what I hope for…

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  2. This breaks my heart. Was yours broken? I fall in love with your illustrations and then the words just explode with emotion. I lost a friendship two years sgo – we couldn’t bridge over broken trust. I miss her, but much was illusion seen only after our parting. It is hard to recoup and fill the void. Would either if us reach out again? Would either of us answer? For now, no seems the healthy place to be.

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  3. You did just write to me, and I’m answering and now following you. You wrote to me in the comments on Raising the Curtains blog. I love your blog. I will recive your cuttent posts and return after A to Z bloghopping ends to explore what I’ve missed in prior posts. Your illustrations are too delicious for me not to receive the gift.

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  4. so i came here today to apologize for not getting back to you about better ways to protect online images. i found a great site that ‘walked’ through a way to laminate one image on top of the real one, and then i lost it.. i think i got dizzy trying to understand exactly how to do it and never found my way back to it.

    i use an easy ‘irfanview’ photo program for ‘instert text’ and put the copyright sign and my name..

    will keep looking for answers and will pass them on to you.

    z\
    oh, and your writings and art are once again wonderful and so uniquely you. sometimes pain triggers the most brilliant expressions of the soul.

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    1. hey amiga; i’m back w/the link about protecting your images. the shrink wrap sounds like a fun way to dodge the thieves.. ihttp://skinnyartist.com/stop-stealing-my-images/

      if only i could have done this to the items stolen by the riverside thief! hmmm.

      z

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  5. what a queue of comments! you are well loved amiga, though sometimes knowing that doesn’t help at all. nothing does except time.
    yesterday as is rolled paint on a seven-foot long stretch of material for a mural, i played an eclectic playlist of music on repeat.. one of the songs was alanais’s ‘woman down.’ and about the third go round, i emerged from my painting fog and realized what an amazing compassionate song that was, and wondered about the trigger as well.

    what IF there were a ‘woman down’ alert, and all of those who had walked in those shoes were able to race to give comfort and be sure that she was out of the line of fire!

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    1. Oh…Sista Z…thank you always for your warm comments. Judging also from the comments you receive we (meaning the family we have gathered along the way) do have a kinship with all our commentators. It is affirming to know, especially on “special” occasions, that none of us are ever truly alone in experiencing this journey…even though we have different roads we navigate. You continue to be an inspiring part of…most all. In gratitude…Sista R.

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      1. you know, my friend barb is from oregon, though she lives in panama. i´ve been to portland once to see her ´not´get married ‘ ‘.– a great story.. one of these days my path might take me back.. and if so… we´d best clear the calendars for a while!
        thanks!

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        1. YOU ARE ON!!!! My home-door will always be open for you and for as long as “a while” lasts! We might even be dangerous….
          I’ve seen a calligraphic work of art that declared:
          “There is nothing, nothing, nothing that two women can’t get done before lunch.” I do believe that would be the two of us….
          XXOOXRaye

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    1. Apologies, MM…I thought I wrote with an effusive thank you for images! Apparently my mind is now packed and ready to be put in the removal’s van. Yes, received.
      Effusive thank you. Looks as if watercolouring is taking a back seat to what the reality of moving has become. As mentioned in email…move me to back of coll-queue for now. I, too, am looking toward a moment when I can sit down at my drawing table.
      Many, many thanks. Sunshine coming to Portland the next couple of days. Needed respite from the spring rains we continue to have. Hoping your weekend is as bright and glorious as ours is supposed to be. R.

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      1. Thanks R, just wanted to know you got that safely. As said before no rush and I hope the move goes well and that you will be happy and content in your new abode. Love from across the many miles, MM 💚

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  6. Not two hours ago, my sister and I were reflecting on this very theme. Wondering what if…what would I say, how the person would respond, would it help to heal an old wound. In the end, I decided, best not to find out. But I still wonder. This captures the whole truth of it.

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  7. So much sadness behind those lines of emotional longing. But I also see melancholy beauty both in the text but maybe even more so in the ink drawing. I think we have all experienced that state of emotional unrest when we know our words will never be able to change anything – as much as we maybe want to. That’s when I think – or try to persuade myself – that whatever good we had will never go away, even if it won’t continue. A wonderful and poignant post, Jots.

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    1. The trick Missy QSG (not ever to be confused with food preservative msg) is not to go there…the “missing you” deep recesses. Instead? Missing who….??? See how that works?

      Thank you so much for your comment. Not a bittersweet one….

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    1. Airing out my spring tutu, beating the Friday drums and pre-convincing my cats it is only a time-clock change on the Sunday and no, we won’t miss the parade…

      You know what this is for, El G…thank you.

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  8. The eloquence of your words with the…starkness(?) of the painting make the pain and melancholy palpable.
    You’re an artist in many media, not the lest of which is living.

    If this is something you’re going through, I hope this beautiful expression gave some relief.

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  9. I don’t know how to spell the mh-mh-oh-umh-uh huh that comes out of my mouth as both visions and thoughts run rampant in my head with each and every color and sentence that makes me feel again.

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  10. Powerful piece and incredible writing… I am also so impressed by the comments and replies. I feel good, I have learned much and felt much with this post. Wonderful.

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    1. Thank you, R.
      Since I admire the same elements in your image and commentary offerings…let’s assume we belong to the same admiration society. Many smiles…..Raye

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  11. I love the idea of the red and the green for this and the stark yellow light, Jots. I pair it with the written word and all of a sudden I am giving feeling to your color choices the primal red speaking of love and fire of the heart and the green for envy, jealousy and somehow a twisted sense of natural causes like the green of nature. Then the yellow, the fear, the sense of self lost in the light of not knowing the outcome if a letter was written….. and the all out loneliness of the absense of the letter writer. Beautifully composed. Wonderfully creative.

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    1. You just give me so much affirmation, Leslie. I can’t tell you what your comments mean to me. Thank you so much for taking the time to digest the use of colour. For me it evokes…a failed attempt at shedding the light on a particular event and thus…frustration at looking at blank pages on a hard flat surface. Unmoving.

      I go back and look at your lessons…tutorials, if you wish. You have become a prominent ripple in my pond of creativity. Thank you. R.

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  12. Two beautiful pieces. Your words embody not only the pain that uncertaintity creates and but also the prize if one has the courage to face it head on. We have all been there.

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    1. No doubt. Just read the comments…we have all experienced some form of emotional uncertainty. Should have titled this “the never ending story”…but those clever string of words were already taken. Thank you so much for your comment.

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    1. So much to say…so little room in this little box. In brief: one-sided seldom works to anyone’s benefit. Thank you Carrie…know your week was busy…and you stopped to comment. Much appreciated.

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    1. P. Think one (maybe me?) might call this facing fear…which is what I do whenever I think I can draw/paint what my mind is shouting in loud colours.
      Thank you, Sweet-Tea. Might be we are more alike…than not.
      R.

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  13. Love this… don’t know what I love more, the words or the painting…. Hmm… the words ripped my heart out and the image put it back filled with warmth… I’ll have to say I love both equally as my emotions went from one end to the other…

    I did get an answer back but it didn’t bring me where I wished to be…

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    1. …then, Missy D…you (and I’ll add me, too) obviously weren’t/aren’t ready to be where we thought we longed to be? Just that thought (for both of us) has brought me to tears. Stop this. Right now.

      I think I love you….and Zeke.

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      1. You may (ok, are) probably correct on this one. OK. I’ll stop… if you will!
        There absolutely is love all around… from me…. and Zeke (kisses and slurps from us!)

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  14. I can only echo what your other, wonderful followers have already said. this was a very moving piece for me, as I’ve done more reflecting on my past than usual lately, and have seen opportunities missed, times wasted, and many times that I could have done better. Your timing was perfect. Thanks for the reminders.

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    1. Thank you for your wonderful words…a reminder that reflection should be a point at which we can, and most likely should….move on. Just keep moving forward, right?

      I can’t believe I just said that out loud, Mr. B. You’ll not share those thoughts with a soul, okay?

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      1. OK, my lips are sealed, I’ll think of a ransom price, later.

        My difficultly is until I understand at least some of what went into past actions, I’ll sure as heck make the same mistakes again and again…

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      1. Not heard that one before…! And next time I’ll be sure to use your proper name which, as I said before, is beautiful 🙂

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    1. Am reading one of your old posts, BTG, as we speak…Six Years…etc. and marvel at the ability to place ones self in another’s footprint. Words to live by. You do it well. I guess I’d call that post content “living words” because it continues to affect long past the pull-by date. Thank you. R.

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  15. I can see how the words fit with your painting. After all, powerful words with a beautiful painting. Yet … I sense great amounts of pain from you … so comforting thoughts to you.

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    1. And here I’m thinking of you, Mrs. aFA. I’ve moved enough times to know that moving house “ain’t for sissies”. Boxes filled with more than stuff…memories, favourite days, lovely conversations, cherished family and friends…precious cargo.

      When all is over and done, aFA, we’ll sit on your new front porch with the drinks table close at hand and…enjoy the view.

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  16. This one hits home. I had a long history, back before writing was done on screens and sent instantly, of having one-way writing relationships with various girlfriends. None of them wrote back very often or very well, and looking back it’s easy to see why. At the time, though, I was foolish and wildly optimistic. Sometimes I miss that youthful optimism, but more often than not, I find comfort in my pessimistic old age.

    As for your post (not everything is about me), it’s beautiful and the artwork is as well. When’s the one-woman show? Will there be set prices on the works, or are you going to let us bid them up beyond my price range?

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  17. Hesitation?…It takes on so many forms -the hesitation before jumping off a building into love, the hesitation before filling the tub with despair to drown in a book. Hesitation to reconcile, the worst and the best letters to write oneself or to someone else. I waited a year and half for such a letter to arrive. It was worth the wait and apparently necessary.

    Quite obvious your not afraid of laying down colour in the painting and in the words -bold use of light without any shadows, again in the painting and words. Good shtufffs. I followed the crumbs of your comments from over at Frankangel’s, glad I clicked the the follow button.

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  18. I don’t know that I do actually like it, Raye – it’s far too real. It makes me think you’ve been cut far too deep.
    But if it’s simply poetry/prose that came into your head, then I like it very much.

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      1. Well that’s alright then. I must confess up front that I CANNOT write fiction. Impossible. I can’t dream up things. I write only nonfiction, and that based on my own experiences. Something missing somewhere. 😦

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      1. I’ve been trying to write a post for the last half hour (plus the whole month that has preceeded it) but if it isn’t my children it’s my students’ emails, so just as I clicked on the wordpress tab, your beautiful painting appeared to greet me…it was such a wonderful surprise to find your art front and center on my screen 🙂 Thank you Raye!!!

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