Saying the Unsaid

Writing the Unwritten

Denis and I before we were married standing on a railway bridge over a river in San Pedro Sula. The bridge has since collapsed. Our love stands strong.

Thank you to each of you who have come by Driftwood and Grace. You are valued.

It is such a long time since I have written here other than in response to the valued thoughts of others. I deeply appreciate the community of writers that I have been able to connect with here. Amongst others, I especially appreciate those of you who have comforted me that our creative rests are important (thankyou

Jeannine Ouellette

), and to honour the stories that want to be told through me and that it’s okay just to write for myself (thank you

Jeannie Ewing

), for feeling what my heart said without any words

Prajna O'Hara

and all of the amazing things that

Tasha Kerry Smith

recently blessed me with including that some of the most important art comes out of the constraints of difficult times/environments.

I have intuited for a long time now, that a large part of why I haven’t been writing when it has always been such an inherent part of me, is that the things I’ve felt I couldn’t say are sitting on top of the things I want to say.

I have come to realise that -to use an old Australian colloquialism- I need a good “gully raker”. For those of you not familiar with the Aussie vernacular (I imagine most of the world), a gully is stream in a narrow valley. A “gully raker” is a massive storm that forces so much water through the gully that it dislodges all of the debris that has been blocking the natural flow. The water from the storm rakes the gully clean and clear.

So, that being said, Driftwood and Grace may read/sound a little or a lot different going forward. Some of you may not like the ferocity of the storm, you may not feel safe with the dislodging of fallen trees and gathered detritus of another’s life. If you choose to walk away that’s totally ok. Blessings to you as you go to where you need to rest your heart and mind. Thank you for honouring you.

If you choose to stay around, well hey, that’s pretty cool. Thanks. And If you think anyone else might like to read Driftwood and Grace feel free to repost or share. Thank you.

For now, I just want to reference the photo at the top of the page. My husband Denis & I standing on a railway bridge over a river in San Pedro Sula. It is a selfie we took not long before we were married. That railway bridge is now twisted metal hanging from one side, no longer fit for purpose. More recently, the heavy sturdy concrete double bridge over the same river gave way. Concrete tore from concrete, rio exposed. (rio in English, the metal bar, and rio in Spanish the river beneath).

It feels important to me to acknowledge the breaking of bridges and the frantic efforts to construct a provisional passage way over the river.

Perhaps my writing here will be the provisional passage way from one emotional shore to another. Not the final reconstruction, but that which is needed for now.

That being said, look at the beautiful black curls on my husbands head. Years ago I held my husband as he told me someone had held a gun to his beautiful head. That was hard to know. There are many things that beautiful man and I have passed through, things that are hard to know. They are hard to know and they are hard to say and they are hard to write.

There are beautiful things I would rather tell you. And the hard things are sitting, smothering, suffocating the breath needed to say them.

My challenge now, is to own the hard things and make them beautiful without dishonouring their truth.

Let’s see how we go eh!

Lovingly,

Melanie Williams de Amaya