I'm here, but these voices have been silenced by busy-ness.
I've been thinking about visual voices--mine aren't so much, when I can't get them nailed down and on the page. They float away and fade, trampled into dust by all this busy-ness and daily chaos.
Like so many ideas, Maya Angelou wrote it perfectly, “There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside of you.” I'm grateful she took the time to get those voices in her head on paper. Her voice sure speaks to me.
This image is along a road in Indiana that is my favorite place to walk. It is a quiet place through the trees where the seemingly divine light streams through the leaves. Grace fills me here.