Why I write

I write because my pen was touched by the hand of God,
destined to get high off my ink until I touch the sky.

I write because I am going to change the world or die trying,
embracing both fates because I have two hands that hold two pens, mightier than two swords.

I write because the struggle is a struggle and is only beautiful when it is a struggle.

I write because I want you to share, and above all to care, and after that to dare,
to be more than ordinary.

I write because my sisters are hungry and my brothers are angry and it is time to give them a voice.
I write for the little boys with no fathers, the silent screams muffled by pillows in the middle of the night.
I was listening.

I write to point to Him as the answer, the one that went before me so many years ago.

I write to break the cycle, and identify myself as a disciple, of all that is good and right.

I write because I am a gift and when I stop giving I get bigger and it becomes all about me.

And so, I write, for you.


One Comment to “Why I write”

  1. I think I commented on this via fb, but I’ll say it again. You, your thoughts, your hands, your words, your rhetoric, your voice, they’re all so unique and beautiful. Don’t ever stop!

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