To read an excerpt from the book, please click on the following link:

Sunday, September 21, 2014

Ending of Ravine, continued

Something I forgot from my last post:
I found a way to segue into the final chapter of Ravine, which used to be the prologue (I feel that the impact of hearing Asha herself narrate what her heaven would be like, in which she gives birth to her baby and lives her life, will leave the reader with a pretty strong impact of what is really lost when someone is murdered).  I have a short chapter preceding this which discusses some of the spiritual occurences which have happened since I began to write this book, and then I state that I would like to give Asha herself the last word, because "had she lived, Asha Veil, born Joanna Magdalena Dragunowicz, would have been the truest author of her own story."  Then it segues into the final chapter, which is written in her voice.  It feels like I am writing the book backwards.

I have to be very careful of my heart these days; this story has made me feel very vulnerable, as if there is no barrier between myself and the world these days..  I was a little shocked to hear myself say that I find in myself the capacity to forgive the person in question, even wish to reconcile on some level, for I miss his friendship greatly and of course, as I always will, I love him, for I never stop loving anyone. I am starting to feel a sense of what happened in December and realized I should have waited a week to cool down before confronting the situation--I think the thing that hurts the most still is to hear in the infamous letter to someone else that I was in love with him, and that was a problem.  Since when in the name of God is loving someone a problem?  Did he have acres of people in his life loving him, that this was such an inconsequence, or was it a mistake to say that? My friend H. says she would never forgive a person if they ever treated me like he did.  I realize that the hurt was a two way street, though.  I can only forgive, at the last, but not be blind or stupid.  If he ever returns to my life, it must be with eyes open.

Still, it is late tonight and this heart and mind need sleep in the brooding hours.