I often write of love or sadness
Words flow from my heart
To escape the inevitable feeling
The endless stories of my soul
Are recounted here in black and white
Like footsteps on damp sand
Each emotion scarring my soul
Each word written comforting it
And still I am writing
An attempt at keeping a small piece
Of each of life’s inspirations
I always find you here
Listening to my thoughts as
They sound out triumphantly
And like the notes of orchestra
My song lingers
And I find myself hoping it will be caught
It begins. Just like that. The journey to self.
Like the brightness of moment, lightning strikes and I am born. A new meaning, a new path, a new thought.
I breathe. I am.
Just like that it happens. Life is born with the first of breaths inhale. I am born. I exist. I think and am and feel.
Life surrounds me. Chaos surrounds me. I live a life of chaos. And so it continues…
From the moment a child is born, the conditioning begins. Think this, learn that, commit this to mind, to memory, to heart. Begin the study of the automatic chains of reaction that come from years of tending.
Like lost sheep, there is a following. Quietly guided by the gentle hand of Shepherd.
I grew up then. I opened my eyes. I saw. Did you? I may have. One cannot be sure. When does one really see?
I notice the development of conscious thought, and more frightening than that, unconscious and random ideas.
When did I truly begin, I wonder? When did my once guided movements take a violent shove to independent condemned effort? I often filled my mind with the brilliance of long before Wonders. Wonders I can only hope to be part of, as my soul lives on, as theirs do, on the shelved existence of greatness.
Yards of thoughts take shape on blank pages of possibility as I share with you the development of me.
You do want to know me, don’t you? Why wouldn’t one be interested in the natural progression and development of another… Perhaps another that somehow reminds of oneself. I must be like you. I must think like you. There must be some connection to a shared existence. I know we have shared thoughts.
We must be because we share. We share many things. Not only am I, but are we. We relate; our thoughts and our words. I feel it every time I read or write a passionate thought on existence. I feel your life before me.
I look back on the innocence of soul. Like the stretching of kittens paw I was awakened. Expanded to take in all that surrounds me. One cannot express the sensation of expanding soul.
I am growing.
Tiny hands grasp the largeness of comforts palm. Can you hear him? Can you feel the whiteness of new emotion finding its way home? This is home. At least, I hope it is.
Large eyes look up at me, catching my loving gaze. What magical moments will follow the rhythm of this child. And so it begins. Just like that it happens.
He is. He was before I noticed. But, nonetheless, he is. Right here, demanding attention. He has been heard.
Soft scents of pastel realities overcome me. The gentle sound of murmured music to my ears; an endless sea of indescribable emotions… Overwhelming hope, and dreams, and love surface. Warm breath rises against midnight clouds while echoing sounds of lullabies cast shadows on nursery walls. Tiny fingers grasping adult hearts luring constant craziness into the incredible intensity of perfection.
I was a child once. I vaguely remember. Growing up in sheltered existence, I began. I remember thinking. I remember crying. I remember pieces of magnificent moments etched in my mind. Will these moments remain with me? Will I hold them forever?
Time went on, as did I. I found myself circling the reality of my being. Even a child finds moments of inquisitive mind. But what peacefulness… what calm. What natural ability to love and hurt and feel with no remorse, no fear, no anxiety, no discord.
And so it happens...The development of mind. New thoughts penetrate a once free soul, forcing the hand of Thought. I fell in love with him, you know? Thought, I mean. He encompassed my being. He lured me. Here I find myself, constantly raveled in the chaos of him. The chaos I call life. My life. Welcome home. You will stay awhile, won’t you?
How unique it is. My life, I mean. How wonderfully ‘only mine’ it is. I spent years hiding from the nature of my soul, trying to find the road where I turned wrong. I haven’t now, have I? I am just where I am supposed to be. Here. Right here, in your hands. Hold me closer. Just for a moment or two.
I remember learning in school. I remember the smallness of it all. How large it all seemed once, in the eyes of Innocence. Innocence is growing. What direction she follows is still unclear, or is it?
My parents were strong teachers. They groomed me from birth. They still do. Snip here, trim there… Like a small puppy I was ‘learned’ the consequence of gesture. The slight of hand and nod of head can still enchant me… Push me, if you will, into the direction of pre-determined fear and greatness.
Here is where greatness begins. Conditioned from birth we trudge along. We find ourselves waiting on tense moments casting future direction. Future direction that follows the footsteps drawn out by long ago paths gone astray. Paths that are looking for retribution.
Well, not my path. After all, it is only partly mine.
I woke up one day and found myself a bright-eyed adolescent. Everything I found, I touched. The texture of life enticed me. It still does. I learned the touch, the sensation, the feel of emotion. I watched it grow. I felt it. I reached out and touched the intensity of Emotions heart.
Long flowing hair protected me…Similar to the enchanting tone of mermaids’ song. One could not hurt or bruise such a free soul as mine. I was nearly invincible. Sometimes I still think I am. Then a burst of reality, and I am enlightened.
Somewhere inside myself, I knew I was frightened. My constant desire to understand more, a defense against worldly things unknown. Like all things undefined, I was challenged. Pulled slower, held back, restrained by any possible means to slow the progression of revelation. I appreciate that now. I was allowed to feel the vibrations of life just long enough to recognize the different ‘feels.’ Just long enough to recognize before being violently thrown off of the spirit of Matador’s bull.
There was unreigned effort and passion in every movement. There was a constant flow of energy filling me with an insatiable desire for more. I still find it hard to control. I came to know the exhaustion that followed the constant movement of mind and soul and being. There are some things so dear to me though, that I could only embark on, and appreciate, while on the last string of Energy’s guitar. It is in these moments of near exhaustion that I see my true self, feel my true emotions; understand my true devotions.
I do love, you know. Not just me, but you as well. I always did. I wish you had seen me sooner. I would have loved to travel with you. Assuming you were heading in my direction, of course. Would you have modified your path to accompany mine? I always was interested in the depth of one’s emotion, and their willingness to change form.
I started writing at this point. I recognized my appreciation of emotion. I noticed others and the expression of theirs. I wanted to reach out each time I saw the movement of exchanged expression of any kind. I found myself drawn to music and words and quiet exchanged glances of hidden desire. I captured them. I still have them you know? I keep them locked in a secret room in my soul. I find odd comfort in recounting them… the chase that led me to hold the mystic wonder of Real.
Vivid - at times raw with emotion and dripping with sentiment.Christina Marra traces the timeline of her life with soulful imagery and profound emotion.She speaks of relatable experiences using the poetry she calls the Words of Her Life.
Marra begins with the birth of self and traces the development of her thoughts and feelings as she experiences love, life, and a full range of emotions during her adolescence and into her adulthood. She exasperates the development of self through profound images that speak to the very heart of your soul.
She speaks of family, upbringing, dreams, and love. She speaks of the foundation of emotions that she associates with every aspect of her living. She questions learned truths and visits the very nature of her being.
Marra finds herself in her writings and, through her loving, accepts the woman she is today.
About the Author
I started writing when I was fourteen years old. I always loved to write. I always loved to read. I used to free write in high school when I was in class.
I remember when I was growing up, that I used to write cards for my friends to give to their boyfriends.
I always had pen pals. I absolutely love to write cards. It is one of the many joys in my life.
My love for words was driven by my ability to capture sentiment in a way that cast vivid imagery into my world.
I grew up working in my family-owned construction company. I still work there today. I love my job. Every day.
I am the lucky mother of one wonderful son, who is the light of my life.
At age thirty-eight, I created a bucket list. One of the top five items on the list was to publish my book.
I was born and raised in Vaughan, Ontario. This is my home, where I still reside.