The clock read 3:41 am as I sat behind my desk taking the pink, blue, purple, and black colored words and composing them into sentences and paragraphs. It was at this time I noticed the display on my phone light up followed by the notification ding, ding tone giving me notice of the email received. I glanced at the sender’s name and email address not having any indication as to who it was. Curiosity struck this ever so curious female and I decided to read it. The person, who chose to only go by the name of Caiden in Odense, Denmark, mentioned he had been following my blog and had enjoyed every post that had come to life. He had a few questions pertaining to a few of them but for the most part he wanted to know why I write in general and why I write on the topics that I do. I kindly responded and with his permission to make our conversation public I have decided to compose this post.
To begin, I honestly can say I don’t choose topics but instead write from the heart. My heart is filled with lots of life’s experiences and heartaches. The heart is the one organ that holds an unsurpassed amount of people’s deepest secrets, secrets of others, love’s mistakes, love’s accomplishments, and so much more. My posts tend to take shape after having a conversation with a friend, co-worker, or a complete stranger. I then reach deep into my heart’s cavity and pull out my own past with what our conversation entailed and write from there. They can also be inspired by a movie or a song on the radio.
One sentence sums up the reason behind why I write…I write to allow the words which are suffocating deep within my heart be released. I secretly started writing many many years ago while still playing with Barbies and Cabbage Patch Kids. I enjoyed writing poetry back then because poetry to me was the “beauty” I was missing. In the third grade, I had entered a poetry contest at school. The contest was open to all 3rd-5th graders and because our elementary school was located in the inner city and considered a poverty-stricken campus there were only three of us who had entered. I won the contest and had my work displayed in the front corridor by the main office for a few weeks. I had been invited to share my piece with the district poetry contest and after some convincing I did. My third grade teacher, Mrs. Carr took me aside that day and informed me that my words had power to them. It was something she had not seen before in a third grader let alone someone still in the k-12 sector. She reiterated that I had a passion that I should never allow to be murdered. She had a way with words herself. It was then at that early age that I knew I had words cooking in me and that one day they would they need to be served on a platter for fear of them becoming rancid. Rancid was not what I wanted my words to be.
So here I am thirty years later, still writing. I went many years writing in secret, many words hidden deep in mi alma. I awoke from my sleep invested self and decided to release my voice.
Like white doves in a cage on a wedding day my words have been released…