I write to remember
The cool breath or night sending chills down my spine like the faint touch of fingertips on January nights, the first buds you notice, peeking out of the soil, like tiny secrets between you and mother earth. How butterflies feel even after all these years, first met, holding hands, and how it feels to be held in the arms of someone you cherish as you fall asleep, even if it is just a Monday night.
I write to remember poems I haven’t written yet
Because these feelings exist to be translated onto lined paper, and even if poems can’t exist as tangible things I will keep writing until it feels real because anything you read and remember is liberating, life-giving, and I write to speak life and love into desolate place, to strings between me and people I’ve never met.
I write to remember the truth of existence,
That there is beauty for those who search for it, that we are made of enduring love, resilience, strength, and grace. Then, that out of all the remarkable wonders of the world, creation was only called ‘very good’ after God created the first man and this is because humanity has a gift that nothing else truly does: to create.
So, I write to remember my purpose, my potential, the power that resides in my soul to express, articulate, portray, and compose more beauty to add to the splendor that is existence, thriving not just surviving, making a mark that makes the world better.
