Journals Tell Secrets

Spiral bound,

blue lined pages,

heartfelt words written with color;

neatly penned large clear print

or small teeny tiny scribblings,

conveying the tone of the day

in a way that an observant reader

can connect together

peace or confusion,

excitement or anxiety,

love or hate.

Over time, those words

will be found by others.

What message will they send?

Will they know your thoughts

or think they understand?

Will you care what your words convey?

Is there something you words need to say?

Or do you want them disposed of,


that on days long ago

spiral bound,

blue lined pages

helped life to continuously flow.



7 thoughts on “Journals Tell Secrets

  1. I’ve kept a journal since I was 8, and only recently disposed of them. So many words — rants mostly – processing troubled times, silly crushes, personal agendas that I decided no one else needs to see. Now I blog – a little more dangerous, lol. good questions

    Liked by 1 person

      1. Oh my gosh. So sorry to hear. You are charged with an important responsibility, although my oldest sister died young of cancer, and she kept journals and recordings of her life, but none of us has had the courage to put it to paper, apart from the odd poem I write in her honour.

        Liked by 1 person

      2. I have wrestled over the years just exactly what to do with all that sits in this box.
        She lived across the street from me. No one came to her house for months except for legal documents. A memorial service was held, yet the house remained untouched. I had a key, so through the winter months made sure the heat was working, and then into the spring and summer months kept the house aired out. I mowed the lawn and kept up with things that needed to be done. The things she set on the table that day after work were still there. She had called me a few short hours before the accident, needing help with lighting her hot water heater. A little later she had texted and said she got it lit and was going to town. Foreclosure, nearly a year later, forced her mother in law to do something with the house. (The neighbors husband had passed away at a young age with cancer). The mother in law was named executrix. She is disabled. I boxed up her things, that’s when I found the journals. When the auction came close to happening, I took the journals to my house. My friend had walked through childhood abuse, teenage cutting and suicide attempts, hospitalization, multiple personalities and her husband of two years dying of cancer. The day she died, she was a woman who had overcome so many things, cared and loved others, including all the fur babies out there, never forgot a birthday and was preparing for a 5K running event. I weep as I write this, because I know there are many people in our world are experiencing or have experienced the same things…I see some of them in my classroom on a daily basis. She never gave up…she questioned a lot and struggled a lot but she somehow held onto a hope that is hard to comprehend. Is that something for me to convey to others or do I let her words (and her counselors words) stay on the pages of her spiral bound, blue lined pages?


      3. It occurs to me that the journals fell into the proper care – a writer, who has the compassion and wherewithal to translate her life into something lasting. There are stories here, and whether you translate them into fiction, poetry, or just clean up the pages, there is opportunity. I was too close to my sister – shared dynamics to be subjective enough to write her story, but you have a completely different perspective.

        Liked by 1 person

      4. Thank you for letting me vent. I started writing some of her journey into a story format, the poet in me keeps taking over. I worked on it off and on for the first few years she was gone, I had to put it away for awhile. This time I started at the recovery part instead of the heartwrenching part…working backwards. What I will do with it all, I’m not sure…I will know when it’s time. Thank you for your kind heart and words of encouragement. I’m glad you’re here with me on WordPress today. It’s always amazing to me how people are brought to me at the most perfect times.

        My neighbor was one of those people back in 2005.

        Liked by 1 person

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