Why are we compelled to write?
Why do we eat when we are hungry?
There are times when we see something
so amazing, so heartbreakingly beautiful,
that we search for the perfect words to describe it:
maybe it is a sunset painting the horizon
in hues of salmon and amethyst;
or the steady and progressive rumbling
of distant gray clouds signaling an approaching storm.
Perhaps it is the glimpse through a wooded copse—
the black almond-shaped eyes of a young doe
barely visible among the saplings, staring back at you.
It might be an injustice, so heinous,
so blatant, that we need to shout—
to scream it from the page using words to expose it.
And sometimes we are so overcome with emotion,
that the only way through it is in the writing.
Someone who touched our souls has passed.
And yet, I must confess that every day
And yet, I must confess that every day
I am moved by so many poets and storytellers—
unsung…unknown… pouring their hearts and souls
into words; composing their symphony
with their nouns, with verbs, and Oh! those adjectives…
compelled by something intangible that lives inside—
sharing their truths, baring their being;
writing for the one or two who recognize
themselves in those words
so that perhaps one day when the music stops,
someone might turn and say
“Oh, isn’t she the one who used to write?”
© Ginny Brannan 2019
Be still and listen to your soul...
Honoring not only an amazing poet of our time, but all of the poets and writers whom I call friends, whose words speak to and inspire me daily...
