I write for no other reason than I hate

that blinking line

with its taunting

Disappearance

And

reappearance

Its ability

To Be

And

Not to be

And then be again.

Shakespeare

Would have had a lot to say about

That blinking line.

I write for the gentle giants

Whom I pass by

Without a second thought

In the daylight

But when the sun goes down

And the skies open

The downpour that makes it

Difficult to see the blinking light

That means

Slow down or speed up because the giant

Will eat you if you don’t.

I write because my best friend’s mom

Has cancer.

And because there is no way to express

How much this worries me.

Her hair is falling out and there is nothing

I can do about it.

I write because it’s the one thing

That I can create.

In a world where there is so much destruction.

I write so that my grandchildren’s children will be able to

Understand history. Through my eyes.

Not through some passive text book.

I write to leave something behind.