Gloryteller

Writing Is

Writing is an outlet
Perhaps it’s electrical
Like plugging into joy and powering everything up
Sometimes just an opening to let things out
A passage for escape
A channel to drain frustration
A conduit for tears
A vent
For when the desperate cry needs a way out,
Or a place to go because it can’t stay here.

Writing is a conveyance
An express for expression
A quick delivery
A pleasant personal messenger
A slow train of thought
Running down the line
Turning on a phrase
A powerful vehicle, hauling harvests of words,
Heavy loads of thoughts,
Ideas that must get to market or rot in storage.

Writing is a wright’s den
A workshop, a sweatshop
Where ideas are whittled and turned
With sharpened tools
Woulds and mettles worked and tempered
Common prose peened and hammered
Poetic beauty buffed to a shine
Polished and finished, punctuated and grammar’d
Bible, book, a script, a play, a limerick, a joke,
A story, a note, or music made, all by a word-wright’s skill.

Writing is a window
That faces the world, transparent
Or looks at the writer’s soul
Exposing everything both ways
A mirror in which to see yourself
Reflected as a character
And sudden revelation
Like a bird slamming into the glass
Because it was uninformed
But now it knows more
Because solid truth is undeniable
When crafted, smithed, and wrighted plain
Or into metaphor and out again.