A single sentence in paint the color of dried blood on the back wall of an abandoned factory. It's one of those moments I wish I'd had a camera to capture the image. How do I describe the words somewhat askew, not penned neatly or even artistically the way some do. Just letters, penned in the quick strokes of paint can, drips visible where the letters ran before they dried against the bricks.
I won't give up again.
I wish I knew which denizen of this neighborhood penned these words. I wish I could find them and ask, bluntly and nosily perhaps...what led to this sentence? The writer in me longs to know the story. But more importantly I want to know...are you OK? Are you surviving? Or have you, in spite of courage in red paint, given up again?
These handful of words have stayed with me more than a year since I saw them. I suspect this has something to do with that deep thrumming I felt in my chest when I saw them. That recognition that someone else knew what it was to give up. And then...to stand up and try again.
And more than that...they shouted it to the world. In rust colored letters, flaking away in the summer sun. A silent declaration that this time, this time they would not fail.
I can't help but admire that. It's hard enough to admit that I've messed up. That yes, I too have reached a point where I've thrown in the towel. More than once. But to shout to the world that it won't happen again? That makes me accountable, not just to me but to the rest of the world.
Wow. Bold. Brave. And just a touch scary...
...and high time, don't you think? Tonight then let me adopt these words as my own.
I won't give up again.
Amen. So be it.
I won't give up again.
Amen. So be it.
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment