I have not the slightest idea What to write Yet; My fingers ache For the outstretched movement of muscle, To bring symbols to life, With a scratch of graphite, The flow of ink, In key presses, Or a screen swipe by impatient digits; This mind is a cipher of possible letter, word combinations, Awaiting the right alignment, A key –Inspiration, To Communicate Feeling and thought, Forged in the furthest recesses Of this artistically wired mind, Bringing forth symbols, Strung into messages, All in an effort to unlock, and light up thine.
Words are my art And my ministry; I write, I speak, I evoke, I exhale Words, Into the ether; What comes next of the symbols and breath I share I cannot contain, It is with benevolent intention I infuse These words That I trust Will come to settle Where they are most needed, With Spirit, As the guide.
The moon It tells me I’m not seeing The whole picture, Cloaked in shadow, My fears and uncertainty may be for naught, I am in the dark without your words, Without you star, So I step carefully, Guided only by the moonlight.
I have want of you, Oh how I miss you, Miss the knowledge that I see you, Just as I am seen, For my words, And the soft subtle space in between, How I miss your eyes and your mind, Those that I’ve never not loved, Those that I can get not enough of.
Who am I to write a sermon? I silently ask myself, As I settle into my being, And wonder, I wonder and it extends to my hand, Travels down through my fingers, That now itch with a need to write, To write words of hope, Peace, Contemplation, Resilience, Awe, Transcendence, And then Breathless with completion, I stare down at my work in wonder, Who am I to write a sermon?
I have run to you, I have run from you, In fear of self, In fear of the unknown, I have deleted my poems, Confessions, And such, Fearing the power of others hands they might touch, But who am I? Whose feelings could be wanted? So needed to be manipulated? I am no one.
And therein lies the rub, If I am no one, I am nothing, But I am something, I am someone, I cannot be no one, And thus, I am important, I am unique, I am valuable…
And if so I have much to protect, I can either refuse to live, to preserve ever being harmed, Or I can revolt against fear and oppression, Determined to preserve my existence and living, And thus, I wage my own internal battle against uncertainly, And pledge to live;