Why Write?

It can be breathtaking,

even alarming,

to listen to one’s echoes,

consult one’s memories.

It might even be surprising

to recall that which was forgotten,

admit that it was suppressed.

It can be staggering to say out loud,

those words based in reality,

ones rooted in blood and bone,

in heart and mind.

And so one writes, in order to discover

what one does not know how to say.

It is necessary to go to the center,

to the hot, steaming core,

to get face to face

with grief, sorrow, love,

to ask oneself,

what am I not willing to reveal?

When one is as

imperfect as I, it

takes a lot of

guts to try to

spread hope,

inspire faith,

promote love,

go for broke on

what matters to Spirit above.

Oh, there’s a lot I won’t do,

not anytime soon.

I won’t dance,

I’m an unsightly lump,

I won’t soar

in a hot air balloon,

not afraid to fall,

scared I might jump.

But I audaciously write of

great hopes, of grand schemes,

daring to be the artist

of my very own dreams.

Not really fearless,

not in any way,

I write to discover what

I don’t know how to say.