Why Do I Write?


Why do I write?
I write to clarify my thoughts,
To contemplate the mights and oughts
For better sight.
Why do I write?
My voice and tongue do oft impede
Communication. Come and read
My soul’s expression, for I need
To be transparent. I must heed
The call and write.
Why do I write?
I feel unable to convey
Emotion any other way.
These fears and joys that fill the day
I write at night.
Why do I write?
I draw near to the throne of grace
With pen and paper ‘fore my face
To speak to you in humbler pace,
Requesting help to run the race,
To walk in light.
Why do I write?
I write to share what I have found
That some, by reading, might abound.
Therefore, I write.

Photo by Alexa Mazzarello on Unsplash

On My Use of the First Person


I remember finding a used copy of A Grief Observed by C. S. Lewis in a back room of a house-turned-flea-market in Natchitoches, Louisiana while I was in college. The price was less than two dollars, I think. I was beginning to venture into the world of Christian thought, and my hunger for truth was strong and wild. Lewis’ name rang a bell in my mind, recalling memories of his Narnia stories. A Grief Observed, if memory serves me well, was my first taste of his nonfiction. I hadn’t a clue what that short book would do to me.

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I think we only think we think
When our imagination
Is captivated at the brink
Of some infatuation.
The meeting of the mind with wonder
Tricks us to assume
That old ideas are torn asunder,
New ideas to bloom.
But truly we have only just
Begun to chip away the rust
And wipe away the years of dust
For mental exploration.
And pushing past the stench of must,
Advancing with a forward thrust
Into the realms of doubt and trust,
We reach the elevation.
And it is there we find
A freedom for the mind
As God in grace unbinds
Our thoughts from Satan’s blinds.
Press on! Press on! And think to know
The Truth amidst the lies below!

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