Isaiah Jacob Barber

Writing came about for me, in my life, when I was 16 years of age. Before that however, more to my story is needed. My mother left my father when I was 3. Most children develop an emotional attachment to the mother, but I was the opposite. I became a destructive child as a result. When I was 9, my mother decided to take me to Oregon from Washington but it didn’t end there. After a year she took me to Kansas, away from family and my father. To be brief with this portion of my story, I went from destructive to complete and utter depression and despair.

My life became meaningless and that was the beginning of a lonely life with no friends or family. When I was 15, I wanted nothing more than to die as I thought about suicide quite often. School was miserable for me. I had no friends and couldn’t even find it in me to talk to people; I shut myself out from everyone. When I was 16, everyday was the same. Just like any other day, I sat alone at lunch. This time however, I decided to experiment and sit at the popular table in the center of the cafeteria. Of course, there was a gap between me and the other students. I then realized that I am alone without comfort. Then I heard a voice over my right shoulder asking if he could sit with me. He did, and invited me to first united Methodist church where he is the youth pastor. I thought if the kids were as kind as he was, then perhaps I would find friends but I didn’t. The kids there were actually similar to all the rest for there were little difference. So I figured that I would at least come to know what prompted the kindness a minister displayed that day. That is where I came to know God and he remains all I look for in life. Now, to what leads me to write.

For whatever reason, I picked up a pen and wrote on a blank sheet of paper. I didn’t write diligently but I did ever so often, I just wanted to know who this God is. My mind was still fractured and damaged from the road bestowed upon me and when I was 18, I dropped out of high school for my misery and depression was too great for me to handle school. My life thereafter was not joyous or happy. I continued down a lonely road with no friends or anyone to truly call family. My pain and sorrow was great indeed. I turned to the pen and wrote what I could see as my heart coming together. I recorded my life through poetry and it was my therapy. The feeling of healing was within what I wrote and I found purpose. Thus, God and poetry has been my journey, a road to complete serenity for all eternity.