there is a line of thought
that each soul chooses its path
creating a general outline of experiences
a sense of direction without any concrete
it was then I became a writer ~

my mother sat me upon her lap
read to me little golden books
and Dr. Seuss
from time to time she would experience nostalgia
and read to me her own youthful writings
it was then I became a writer  ~

AP English taught by a wicked witch
no vision   no freedom     no fun
write this style this way or fail
I failed
it was then I became a writer  ~

sobbing over stationary
attempting to write away a failed marriage
trying to rhyme piece of mind
with leaving a daughter behind
ultimately choosing a needle and the life
like Hunter, Jack, and William…..
it was then I became a writer ~

sitting across from murderers
sharing the secret I held most dear
I read aloud my poetry for the first time
It was then I became a writer  ~

I became a writer the moment I
cocked my head to examine closer the delicate petals
of a dandelion  ~

I became a writer the instant I felt
          anything  ~

the day I set my hand free
and it became dearest of friends
with both my head and heart
that
that is the day I became a writer /