What If I Ask

Sometimes a writer faces a battle between self and his gift...this is my struggle.

Hear war inside today,

Don’t know if or how to fight.

It seems such contradiction,

To run, to study or write.

 

How challenge I the futures,

Of creative versus real.

It wars against my spirit,

I threaten not to feel.

 

Inside, I feel the baffles,

Open, close and flowing through.

I see the softened voices,

Beg me to hear the view.

 

What ask the sage of wisdom?

Bring focus, calm the noise.

How deafen raging warriors,

Send quiet, return with joys.

 

And yet, the warriors clamor,

Scream shouts and mount demands.

I choose not acquiescence,

I climb to rock, I stand.

 

Must gain a vantage standpoint,

Against the rage of beast.

Escape their reach, their footpath,

Find solace in the least.

 

Where gifts arrive in secret,

Implanted, carried wombed.

Unchallenged never growing,

Some jailed and there entombed.

 

Release, the cry’s of wisdom

Develop, grow my prize.

Help fruit, to feed the hungry,

Help voice to all that cry.

 

Help speak, obey commission,

My charter and His decree.

Help write as though I live for,

Help spirit to be free.

 

Benjamin Edgar Williams

©2007