The Man In the Lighthouse

I still dream of the Lighthouse from my very first story written on Vocal, and it is both haunting and nostalgic. The Lighthouse was a story about accepting the storm within myself in order to find the road back home. At the end of that road lay the Lighthouse; a constant reminder of my failures to shine. The man inside was my higher power who was always waiting for me to find my way and I did that through sobriety.

I was a young fool struggling amid his alcoholism and a budding tree in the world of sobriety. Everything was painful, and getting out of bed was the last thing I ever wanted to do. Somehow, I managed to survive, and an indescribable moment happened to me. I found the power to write again, and I am forever grateful because I would not be here without it.

The Lighthouse was written from a place of defeat and finally acceptance, but I never understood its deeper meanings until further down the road. All my life I thought I had to carry this burden of being a light in the darkness for others. Even when I could barely hold a lantern and brace the storm outside. I found a place of refuge in a cave, and I stayed there for years letting my life pass me by. Over time the meaning of the story changed for me into something beautiful. No longer was it a story of my struggle but instead a final victory over the very thing that ate away at me for over a decade.

I found the absurdity in my search for purpose, and it all led back to that silly lighthouse. The old man inside never cared whether I carried that lantern of light because the light was never the purpose. I was the lighthouse all along whether I knew it or not. Despite my failures and my shortcomings that light shined on those sailing into the darkness and acted as a beacon calling them home.

With that perspective in mind, my writing changed considerably over the years. I turned to those raw emotions inside and I churned them out like butter on a page. I found the brokenness and began patching myself back up story by story, line by line. I had many mentors along the way and most of them passed before their time. I found a community to share with on Vocal and for once my words made a difference to those in need. I could grasp its tangibility for the first time in my life. My words mattered. My stories transcended my pain into a blooming tree of hope.

Over the years I have self-published three books and they expressed the story of my life through poetry. I have dabbled in all sorts of fiction writing and managed to find a home in the world of poetry. A world where my adventures and my pain came to life painting something greater than me. When I write I never feel alone, I feel every single soul that mentored me, guided me and stood by my side through every painful day. I found the gifts of life through my writing and when I was ready, I traveled through the graveyard of my past. I met Death who reminded me of the strength I always had inside but could never quite see. He became my greatest friend even when he had to take my loved ones away. I came to understand Death better because I was blindsided by Love.

In my third book Love took me on a journey through every failed relationship, every resentment I held, and every tender part of my heart. Love showed me that the man staring back at me in the mirror was always capable of being loved and giving love. Through writing I began to hate myself less and less until I found a way to heal and love the man I was always trying to become. These are the things that evolved my writing into poetry that I hoped others could understand.

The Lighthouse will always hold a special place in my heart for the reminder of how far I’ve come since. I write now from the perspective of healing and the power a story can bring to others. The story of redemption is not just for me, but for everyone.