and is forever showing me his drawings,
to say, “I will not paint” as Monet is in his garden
(again!)mixing colors for his next great work,
to say “I will not design a stitch”
because Edith Head lives down the street
and is forever flaunting her work in my face,
To say, “I will not write” as So-and-so’s
grasp of the language, nuances and phrasing
put me to shame,
(and besides….look at those followers),
to say all this defies the God-breathed
seed inside of me–the only me who can
write what I see through these eyes–
my voice, pouring out in words, my way,
not the only way, but a facet of Him whose voice
began it all.
I will write be-jeweled lines to crown this life
and leave it a better, more beautiful place.
That’s why I write.