Compulsion
. . .and you hear a voice deep from down within,
or from somewhere out there,
it does not matter,
saying
“ Write for my people!’
So you take this message and enfold it
deep within your heart, but you write not a word.
Finally you get something down on paper and file it
in a box in an obscure corner
and forget about it. . .
For years.
And the voice says
again, “Write for my people!”
But you continue to ignore it until years later
When you grow tired of being pregnant, filled with
a message dying to be born. Bursting to emerge
from the womb with the fury of
a mighty storm. You want
to run
but the weight
is so heavy you can barely stand,
let alone waddle. You have trouble breathing, sleeping
This baby has taken control of your being
And refuses to go away. That’s when
you realize the only way to. . .
is through.
And after much travail
in the night,
a child is born
Peace and Joy
Return to stay
in the morning.
©KPLewis (Kalypsoul)
2005
