“She writes”
She writes Like her soul set fire to her heart And her pen Is extinguishing The flames. She sings Like betrayal left Her blood frozen And her voice Is thawing Her veins. She plays guitar Like the strings Are her disgraces And her nails Scratch away the shame. She dances Like plague rats Blight her psyche And her feet Stamp away The pain. She lashes out Like crazed hornets Haunt her spirit And her hands Are weapons Of rage. She cries Like life left Her broken And her tears Are warm Healing rain. She prays Like her wings Were stolen And her pleas Will grant her Flight again. -D. L. White (Danny Boy)
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As I've wrestled with whether or not to share glimpses of what I'm working on with the world, before their titles are ready to be released, I've decided that the unfinished stories are just as much a part of my soul as the ones who's pages are graced with the words "the end." Their stories hold significance to me, even in the infant stages of development, and deserve to be given space to exist with acknowledgement. So, while it may feel like a tease to know they exist without a release date in sight, know they are happy that you are patiently waiting to read their stories and know who they are as I slowly and gently breathe life into them.
These quotes beautifully illustrate the essence of Dominoes. It's been a long process throughout my life to reconcile this idea that those unique souls that connect to yours on a deep and eternal way, aren't always meant to be in your sphere of contact continually throughout your life. While their walk beside you might not be meant to remain constant throughout your journey, their footprints will always be tangibly visible on your life's path, their fingerprints will ever be etched on your mind, and the fragments of their hearts that are tethered to yours will always beat within your chest.
I've had so much fun working on the covers for the Dominoes Series. Click on them for a better look, or explore each of them under the Book Tab for a sneak peek.
Sitting at the kitchen table with my laptop, working on my book while my husband and daughter played a computer game on their laptops, opposite each other at the other end of the table, I got up to pull the pizzas out of the oven. I returned to find my son, sitting in my seat, intensely focused on the screen, reading the text in front of him.
My heart soared, "Do you like it? I can read it to you for bedtime stories if you want!" Glancing up at me in confusion, "It's my talk for tomorrow." Realizing he wasn't reading my story, but rather was reviewing the talk he'd written that he'd be giving over the pulpit during Sunday survives at church tomorrow, I laughed...only a little disappointed that I didn't, in fact, have a captive audience enthralled by my latest masterpiece. We are all vessels, conduits of inspiration...all with our own souls that hear and feel and connect in different ways. To some, a voice in the recesses of the mind, to others - a feeling in the bones, a tingle in the spine. Last night, it was a dream.
I had an almost out of body experience today... Shopping in the grocery store, I had a scene pop into my mind that I vaguely remembered thinking about before, but couldn't place if I had actually written it or just thought about it...and if I had written it, I couldn't place where it would be saved, or even why I'd written it. Realizing it would be perfect as a scene in a prequel I'd considered writing for the Dominoes Series, I pulled up the bookmarked manuscript for "Calling All Dominoes." Expecting to find a blank document with just a title page, I found several written chapters, one of which included the scene I wanted to include in it. In a flash of recollection, scene after scene came flooding back to me, and I remembered hours and hours of laughing and crying and laughing some more as I wrote (and read the scenes to my daughter over the phone) for the couple of days that the book had written itself during my manic year last year. It's crazy to think I completely forgot writing half a book until it came crashing back to remind me. It just goes to show that when there is Divine Intervention at play in the inspiration of any element of creative outpouring, it is not our own talents or abilities, but that of a Higher Power at work. We are but the vessels. We are but the hands. And fortunately, the shadows of our inspiration want to be heard, and don't allow us to forget about them...for too long. One day these pictures won't just be sitting on my computer as inspirational bookmarks holding a dream together...they'll be on the table of my designer as she creates the covers for the Dominoes Series as I prepare to go to print.
While writing this weekend, a small, unpresumptuous line made it's way onto the pages of my book, tucked seamlessly amidst the words of an obscure paragraph. But today, as I was reviewing what I'd written, she very clearly stood out from between the lines and declared her place in the world. It was fun to watch as line after line, soon became paragraph and page, until finally, an entire chapter had procured itself. Pleased to be manifest in the full stature of her inspiration and potential, she was now content - having been heard and headed.
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AuthorRachel Siemers Archives
January 2023
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