Alecia Shepherd is a remarkable and inspirational woman, a survivor of horrible physical and psychological abuse and a survivor of a combination of disabilities and a rare blood disease. She is an overcomer, and, in spite of the pain she has been dealt, has chosen to dedicate her life to the
help and education of others. This is her heart’s desire. Her music is emotional, powerful, at times dark and astounding, but always laced with a glimmer of hope that keeps you eagerly listening for each new
movement.

20% of profits from the sale of Second Genesis will be donated to LifeBlood, a group that works dilligently to find better ways of treating blood clots which claim more lives each year than HIV and
breast cancer combined! Click their logo to learn more.

Coming Soon: A booklet of art by Alecia Shepherd with poetry to expand upon Second Genesis. 100% of the profits from the sale of this book will go to benefit LifeBlood, the Thrombosis Charity.

Silence Shouts A Welcome Return

I just got back,
and where I've been, there is no one else;
having just returned
from the cruel barbs of Rubicund,
wrapped in a shadow
and stinking of molten tar,
I breech the darkness
into an ice cold world
the shade of midnight
and on a blanket of fresh snow.
Having fought through the confines,
the immeasurable depths
of the cruel silence of Hell,
a place from which no sound escapes,
a place none from the high surface fathom,
of burning isolation;
a burning sensation that coaxes every molecule
of the essence of the lost
into tearing free of their soft core,
and they will scatter if you are not very mindful.
Each molecule feels the hunger,
its own ache to be seen again
past a darkness that never ceases,
and where seemingly Hell continually grows, and grows,
and grows,
until, but only if you keep your wit
in the face of the madness
of complete separation,
you eventually realize that the Hell you are within
is actually quite tiny,
and that not a single part of you has moved in the slightest,
not for days.
No one can see you, nor can they hear,
they have no eyes, nor ears,
and the burning,
the result of careless amounts of friction
emanating from your rage of fear
as you claw, and tear, and rub,
with violence, with such a dark
need to break free of your own skin.
The locks on my health, on my heart,
have not been so complex before,
but I worked their tumblers
with bloody, skeletal fingers,
and at last am simply coming back to life.
Sometimes daily, sometimes with each breath,
slowly, coming back to life.

©Copyright December, 2009