Why do I write?
I write because I must
Because there is a part of me which yearns to be free
A voice – If I can call it that – that seeks formation from deep within me
Writing is where I feel at one with this voice
It’s ancient yet fresh, wise yet childish, real yet mysterious.
I write because I feel alive when I do
When sounds seize to beseech me and silence envelops the world around me
Only then do I taste the fruit of my own muse.
I write because I love to
Because if I don’t I will never know this part of me that yearns to be free
Never live through this child within me.
As a small child I sought its elusive melody
Always venturing out of sight as soon as I caught glance of its rays
I sought it when life couldn’t bring me joy, when family couldn’t bring me love, and when friends couldn’t bring me understanding.
I sought it when I was alone in a world that didn’t seem right for me, in a society that didn’t seem to work for me, and in a culture that seemed totally different than me.
Writing is where I fit in
It’s where the melodies of my life find harmony
Where my frustrations with the world find understanding and acceptance.
Writing is where I connect with the world, with society, and with my culture
It’s where I find solace, purpose, and possibility.
It’s where everything seems right, despite all the tragedies of life.