My Write Hand's Worth

Poem inspired by a Lupe Fiasco line, "I've been in the poem of many a poet / And I reside in the art of many an artist" from the song Put You On Game.

In centuries if someone should stumble onto my art

Will they be able to see into my heart?

What pictures will words draw?

What conversations will a sketch provoke?

Will the years of pain and absence dominate the scene?

Or will grace and forgiveness be my central theme?

Would I write so I’m remembered?

Or so a message is conveyed?

Is my creativity therapeutic?

Or simply to get paid?

Would hours be wasted, along with ink and trees?

Or would one poem bring a grown man to his knees?

Do I talk about Father more than I do the pain?

Or is the picture of sunlight intensified by the rain?

Would they even decipher the flow of my pen?

Would the half scribbled letters let anyone in?

Would my lack of form be the purists’ disdain?

Or do I fall in the list of the beautifully insane?
Will I die before it’s discovered; will I know my works fame?

Will the art be lifted up, whilst no writing remains?

Will God let me see how His gift is at work?

Or will I always question my write hands worth?

Reviews

[Rachel DeHart]

"Would I write so I'm remembered?
Or so a message is conveyed?
Is my creativity therapeutic?
Or simply to get paid?"

This poem describes a lot of my own feelings. I've been keeping avid journals for the past, say... 6 and a half years and have about 78 of them under my bed.
And I always wonder, why? Thanks for posting this. Its fantasmic.

[Lydia]

This is really beautiful. And the 'half scribbled letters' line made me smile, because I found one of our old notes the other day...how true, haha. :)

[dilettante1890]

I've often wondered the same thing.