So Many Poems

It used to blow my mind,
How Emily Dickinson could write
So many times.
It’s just crazy.
I mean,
How do you find the inspiration,
What frame of mind leads you to write,
1800 times?
But then I hit ten.
Then twenty.
Then forty,
Then fifty,
Now sixty
And it was then,
That it hit me.
My poetry
Isn’t about me.
It’s not about what I think.
At least,
Not always.
My poetry,
It’s a feeling.
A faith, in a sense.
It’s something deep within me,
Something beyond
my own understanding,
Even when I can’t think,
I can feel the words
In every part of me,
In the marrow of my bones,
The blood in my veins.
Like the very
God-given breath in my lungs,
My poetry
Is what gives me strength to run.
My poetry is my weapon
To fight the good fight,
It is my endurance and strength
To finish the race set before me.
My poetry,
It’s not about my thoughts,
Or my actions.
It’s the substance of my dreams,
The evidence of glorious things
That are still unseen,
And as long as my heart can beat
I will continue to believe,
And as long as I continue to believe
I will continue to write,
Regardless of time,
Regardless of age,
Regardless of what path life takes,
I will keep writing.
For In my writing,
I have found one certainty.
That I am who I was created to be.
Sooo… Two Months. It’s been a while, and I’m bad at kicking myself in the butt and just DOING things sometimes. But, as I was looking through my poems, this one gave me a thought similar to the last one that I posted: “What are you doing with all these? They’re basically collecting dust.” Once I got over the initial shock of that thought, I realized it was completely right. I’ve been sitting letting poems collect dust, whether in my head or otherwise. I kept thinking about this poem, and it hit me that I need to share them. Regardless of my thoughts, regardless of how “perfect” I want them to be, I need to just do it. We’re all created to do something. God gave each and every one of use a purpose, and he gave us a drive within that purpose. Sometimes we feel it right away, other times we may need effort to cultivate that drive. Either way, it’s then our responsibility to keep that drive going, to feed the fire that is our passion, and live out our God-given purpose. I know I was given a passion for writing poetry, I know I was given a passion for sharing that poetry, and I know there is a feeling of fulfillment when I do both. So why haven’t I been doing it? Why haven’t I been sharing anything? I think it’s a fear of commitment. To commit to something is to put true time and effort into it, and to swear to be consistent. I’ve been afraid to be committed, I’ve been afraid to stay on top of myself. Well now, I’m not afraid anymore. Because in this, I have found one certainty. I am who I was created to be.

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