As
pen-and-pulp commitment, a thought or feeling that cannot be undone.
The meaning
of this moment, unlost in the future.
To marry my
heart and mind again; softening their discord to melody.
Because
sometimes words flow freer than tears.
To nail my
feet to the earth.
To soar.
To rip seams
of life-clothing fitted for someone else.
To sew
Spirit into this particular life, at this particular moment
To see again
my own depravity.
To see again
my own divinity.
Because word-finding-work
heals me.
As my
fish-and-loaves offering.
Because ink
flows in my veins.
And when I
bleed, as we all do, it hits the page with purpose.
As worship.
As response
and remembrance.
Because what
is life if not poetry and prose?
A friend and brilliant writer, Annie Morgan, just blogged a moving piece about why she writes. And she ended with an encouragement for all creators to do the same. I read her post right after laying my kids down for a nap, desperate for one myself. And I couldn't sleep until I wrote about why I write.
Go read her blog and don't exempt yourself from her challenge. Whatever your art, rediscover it.
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