penned up inside
refused voice
refused ink
destined to be felt deeply
to serve purpose
to remind
to hurt
to ache endlessly
to love truly
to keep alive
the feeling -
and yet, still words.
This poem expresses why I write. I learned at an early age, there was power in words - power to tear down and hurt others, or power to build up and encourage. Unfortunately throughout my life I have used them for both. One of the great lessons that I am still learning is how to choose the good, how to find my voice and give ink to my thoughts in a way that edifies instead of destroys.
1 comment:
This poem expresses why I write. I learned at an early age, there was power in words - power to tear down and hurt others, or power to build up and encourage. Unfortunately throughout my life I have used them for both. One of the great lessons that I am still learning is how to choose the good, how to find my voice and give ink to my thoughts in a way that edifies instead of destroys.
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