Thursday, October 20, 2011

Why I Write

So this is (or was, almost) the National Day on Writing, and being a good writer, I didn't pay any attention to it until just now when I realized it was almost over.

So, this is my attempt to say why I write.

Why I Write

Just like you
I am
a set of variables comprising
what others see as
me.

(Partial inventory:

- facial expressions - cheekbones, freckles, skin
- body language - moves hands like this when talking
- height/weight/hair color/eye color
- the way eyes change when a person smiles
- clothing and words
- voice - laughing, whispering, singing
- preferences
- aversions
- memories
- regrets)

Just like you
I am
a collection of contradictory impulses
decisions not decided, really...
impulses checked, chucked, indulged.
For everything I appear to have chosen
there is something in my
(history, biology, neurochemistry,
background, upbringing, belief system)
that probably pushed me toward it.

Just like you
I picked up
everything I do, say or think
somewhere
along
the way.

Just like you
I am
living with book ended days
waking up, hair disheveled,
disturbed by a dream...
and going to bed,
settling into sleep
giving into day's end.

Just like you
I am
aging in my body
and both limited and blessed by it
in a thousand different ways.
I also fear my death
despite my faith
(and maybe, sometimes, because of it).

So this is why I write...
to take the vastness of
who and what we both are
and say
"I'm sorry we have so little time
to make ourselves understood to each other."

I write to pull a moment out of the
running stream of my history,
and show it to you, and say,
"look, here we are,
because I am
just like you."