The problem with
Poets, writers and fairytale makers
Is never being sure
If what they speak is truth
Or who and what they want
Truth to be.

The problem with
Authors, playwrights and eassaiest
Is never really knowing
If the experiences laid bare
Are theirs to share
Or borrowed from another.

The problem with
One whose craft is words
Molding, rearranging and perfecting
Is the craft defies reality
When the rules mean more
Than the story they tell.

The problem with
All these is that they are me
For to write is to breathe
And I crave for my work
To be read and understood
And to speak truth gently.

The problem with
Being a wordsmith of truth
Is truth is beauty and ugly
Healing and wounding
Sustaining and killing
All with the same words made tools.

The problem with
Using words, symbolism, rhythm
To tell the story
Is that life retold would rather lead
To places more pleasant
Than dark places in man’s soul.

So I pray each day
And I read my words through
The lenses of Holy Scripture
And I try to ignore
All the stats and numbers
To write solely to an audience of One.

The solution to the problem
Is tearing through the rules
Or writing within them in honesty
Whether the piece sells or doesn’t
Is not the measure of success
But God’s approval is.
               d.f.a.v.   6-18-14
–Donna