I wrote poems once. When I was younger. When dad was my hero, and could do no wrong. When mom was everything, and life was perfect with her. When family was love, and the essence of everything you wanted in life.
I wrote poems when all I knew was 8-track tapes, Elton John, Isaac Hayes, Flip Wilson, and Steve Martin. When my greatest joy was watching movies dad recorded on our new VCR. When the news came on 3 times a day, cartoons after school, and sports on the weekends.
I wrote poems when school was my biggest responsibility. Boys played hard, girls played dolls, and our biggest concern was our report card. We didn’t have a concern in the world. Pancakes for breakfast, and a hearty dinner at night.
I wrote poems before my soul was hardened by time, scorned with pain, and the weight of the world was upon me. Before I knew about how people hurt each other, the responsibility of career, family and marriage. Before I realized what becoming my parents would feel like.
What happens to our creative soul as we grow older. How do we keep from losing it?
Perhaps if I continued writing through the pain I would still be writing poems. Perhaps if I understood that as we grow older we have to make time to create, and practice our craft. We do it despite a feeling. We do it because it’s who we are, and it’s what we want to do.
I was carefree, but learned fear. I learned to fear criticism, and the embarrassment that comes from failure. I became afraid of what I might write during hard times. The truth was too hard to bear. It was hard enough to live through, let alone write about it.
I wrote poems once. Now I write reminders. At least I am writing through my feelings of regret, and disappointment. One day soon, my heart will no longer fear, no longer care, and will remember the freedom it once had to write poems.