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Is this what it all comes down to?
After having written thousands and thousands of poems
Somehow one poem has found its way to you!
Reflection
Angst and creativity.
I have known many periods of doubt. Why am I writing? Do I even have an ear for writing poems? I I have felt like I have felt pain, shame, embarrassment, and grief over being a poet.. I like the absorption of pondering and trying to say things with words. (limited meaningful words.) Mental illness? I have often thought something flowed well and liked it. When I went back to it, I saw mistakes. I submitted some poems here and there. Rejection! Have I ever written something that is worthy of attention? Will that ever happen? What is the purpose of it all? I have certainly slowed down. Is there something I am meant to write? If I give up, I will never find out!
Obsession
One thing that can't be said of my writing is that I procrastinate. Quite the opposite is true. I have been known to keep paper and pencil with me. I can get lost in an interest to write about. Sometimes words will wake me in the night. I know that words won't stay and so I go to the bathroom where I can turn the light on and not wake anyone. Once I lost a handful of poems while traveling. I had written them in the margins of an Ensign. I felt sick. I felt like they were inspired and I had not treasured them. I prayed about this and in the night I felt I wrote new and improved versions. I was so grateful and relieved for that experience. Sometimes I write out of habit, missing those moments of absorbed thought and pondering. It can be a scary feeling to not by inspired by much or at all. Hmmm. Here I reflect on a dozen years of angst like it is all behind me. I have definitely slowed down. Aging? The concussion? Post Covid exhaustion? I am not as intune with the spirit. Except, I did feel impressed to write this. Giving thanks is always a good thing. This reflection has been good for me, as I feel like I am at a turning point.
An old rusty hinge moved with quite a moan and a creek.
Light entered the room. There was something beyond to seek!
Who is not too busy to open the door and look?
Treasures from the past were growing dust in every nook!
Incredible Moments
Start a Blog
I wanted to personally give some poems to a general authority. This probably isn't to be encouraged. I was torn between doing this and not being a nuisance. (I often find the words from general conference inspiring.) I waited at the park after conference and the parking lot was almost cleared out. Am I a stalker or something? I found myself visiting with a man in a wheelchair who had had a series of health setbacks and had lost his legs. He had this persistent thought/question/concern about the days we live in. He felt that adults in his family were not acting like adults for their children. He saw this as a serious problem in our day. I almost missed seeing the stake president as I shared what I was up to and a little about the gospel. The general authority come out of the building. I think I would have missed my moment except I saw something that caught my eye- a light. I can't describe what I saw for I felt it was just for me. It was amazing. I crossed the neighborhood street and thanked the general authority and gave him some poems. He asked me if I had considered blogging to share them. I felt this was a confirmation that in spite of all my self doubt, I had a place in the poetry society or at least my membership's community. Well at least I pushed an anti-Mormon poet from being in the forefront when someone googled the words "lds poetry". Yes, this is absolutely true!
A Book
We had just moved to Nevada and had a treasured moment when family came to visit. Something that I doubted would ever happen! My step-daughter asked everyone to sit down together and share their "bucket lists". I had never heard of this. A bucket list is a list of what you want to accomplish before you die. I shared how I wanted to write a book and to have it published. The next day, I shared this with a co-worker. She told me her daughter is a publisher locally. Wow. I saw it as permission to start immediately. I had read a series of books called "Son of Man" by Susan Easton. These books give you a sense of who Jesus was as a man raised as a Jew and how all the Jewish traditions point to the coming of the Savior. I felt passionate about writing on this topic as I have a dear friend who misses/mourns for his family and Jewish traditions/community. (It is a beautiful religion to learn from.) I wanted him to value his Jewishness and his contribution to discussions in Sunday school. After a very short period, the book was complete, though I kept adding to the bill through images and edits. I felt trapped in a money racket for a second. The crazy thing is, when I got the box of books, I got a bonus that paid for the whole thing! I worked for a private school and it was a one time way to show appreciation for the big turn around in enrollment. What a blessing: "Jesus Christ, Son of Man, A Jew" by Kelly Miller
Thank you
If you read this thank you! Please don't judge me as a bad poet. I am a work in progress.
But, more importantly, it was good for me to write this!
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