I do not write poetry
because
Great dead men on my shelves
have done it
 
I must be busy with
something that’s mine.
 
I do not write poetry
because
Birds by the millions fly
north to their own preachers
 
I must fly to my own east.
 
I do not write poetry
because
The sun dances in the sky
on a flower-filled day
 
I must be there to watch it.
 
I do not write poetry
because
Though the dogs in the yard
Have not bathed for ages
 
They ask for a hug
and I must give it.
 
I do not write poetry
because
The wounds of my past
fester now and then
 
I must be there to bind them.
 
I do not write poetry
because
The clothes in the wash
say Jesus purged me with hyssop
 
I must be there to adore Him.
 
I do not write poetry
because
The father of my children
is the best cook in the world
 
I must be there to love him.
 
I do not write poetry
because
The child wants boots
to scale his own mountain
 
I must be there to free him.
 
I do not write poetry
at all—
because I live it.

kamilawriting.wordpress.com
@kamilawriting on Instagram

#life #ordinarydays #love #family #home #faith

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