
When I’m not rushing to meet a deadline or trying to come up with a captivating headline, I am an undercover word weaver. During these times of uncertainty, I try to make sense of our surroundings, the daily news and place a more positive spin on the world around us. I look not just with my eyes, but with my mind and try to inspire, try to give others a sense of hope in a place of chaos. Not only is it therapeutic for me, but I hope it is refreshing for those who read my work. I try to take the reader somewhere else. I want to lift a spirit or two, make someone think, make someone feel, perhaps change a perspective.
The Writer
She sits, looking out upon a field of green.
Seeing things, that often through the naked eye, remains unseen.
A writer, a poet, a dreamer of dreams.
Someone who knows that all is not exactly as it seems.
There is another world out there, one that often calls her.
To feel, to live, to breathe, and it enthralls her.
A voice rises, one that she must heed.
Words form, shapes are drawn, the lines become a need.
To teach, to grow, to share a path
that she herself has walked.
To bring about a sense of peace that are not just words talked.
A butterfly, a bird, the wind, all will teach a lesson.
An open heart and open mind will render a sweet blessing.
It is a world that few would understand.
She invites all to come, join in and take her hand.
I’ve been writing short stories, fiction, and poetry since my early school days, inspired by a much loved English teacher, we had vision boards back then and I would cut out photos from magazines and draw a story around the photo, much like I do today. I am still able to look at a photo and write poetry around it. I allow my spirit to play a little bit. In doing so, I find my own inner muse, a sense of peacefulness, because, for just a few moments, I created something otherwordly, a fairytale where the hero always has his or her day. I was later encouraged by someone very dear to me to write on other platforms, and little by little, the writer inside of me emerged and I started sharing my work in book form. Trust me, there is nothing as frightening or exhilarating as clicking publish on an app, holding your breath and waiting for that email that your book has gone live. I’m just an ordinary person with a desk, a cat, and a day job, but I get to play goddess every now and then under the cover of night and a full moon, thanks to my laptop and lots of research. The pandemic really gave me time to develop a love for creative writing, and it has both been a hobby and a profession. It is a place where I escape when I want to shut out the noise of the day, literally, headphones on, music playing softly, tapping away on my computer, creating, is a very healthy place for me to be. I feel elated when I’ve finished a piece, like an artist who spent her blood on painting what she wanted the universe to look like. It is a part of me, something that just flows. I can’t explain it, it is just there.
Life is a poem, and the beauty is, we get to write each line of it. We can choose what we will allow in it.
The above poem was previously published at https://medium.com/@elaine.b.hamilton/the-writer-87c06d2f2fc?source=friends_link&sk=59e1dddd2187bce3f76c2b934227d17b