Wednesday, July 13, 2011

One was all it took

            I can’t recall a teacher who truly took the time to outline for me the process paradigm. In consequence, I am left with a disorganized mixture of the madman and the judge. There is no architect or carpenter, present in my writing process, to evaluate and piece together my final product. There is simply part of me driven by inspiration and part of me restrained by the institution of grammar and sentence structure. Despite the lack of unity in my writing persona, I believe I have something that helps to, at least, disguise my lack of structure. Or so I’ve been told.

One was all it took

She said I had a “voice”

From that point on I knew it

It’s as if I never had a choice

From that beginning an ending was set

A writer born

A dream begun

A future balanced

A style beheld

One was all it took

To make my goals known

She said I was worth watching

From child until grown

A writer without restraints

A columnist yet still

A journalist to become

A teacher at will

One was all it took

Isn’t that all it ever takes?

Just one to inspire

And from that a child never breaks

A step to that first paper

A move on to the next

A challenge to improve

A written text

One was all it took

She was so bold

That teacher was amazing

She really broke the mould

A pen with ink

A sentence with power

A writer with vision

A thought not yet sour

One was all it took

She said I had a “voice”

From that point on I knew it

It’s as if I never had a choice

            A teacher who tells a child that she has a gift of the written word inspires in that child a compassion that does not easily die out. Even when I considered other professions, I felt drawn, as if by a sturdy string, to the world of literature. And to the idea that, one day, I could be a contributor to that world: through my own writing or by instilling a drive in my eventual students to become writers. After all, writing doesn’t only take place in a classroom setting. I learned to use my writing in all aspects of life.
It was through a means of communication that I regained contact with an old summer fling of mine. He was stationed with the U.S. Army in South Korea and was scheduled to come home soon. We started contact through email, followed shortly by snail mail letters. I learned to love the old method of communication. I felt a growing strength for expressing myself. This man eventually became my husband and we still maintain that written communication, as he is currently deployed to Iraq.

One was all it took

He caught me by surprise

I fell in love and then

Off fell my stealthy guise

A lover to read

A letter I'd sewn

A distant connection

A relationship grown

One was all it took

How does he always know?

What my heart needs

And even my soul

A message in a bottle

A fortune cookie read

A dream of one thing

A love always said

One was all it took

He caught me by surprise

I fell in love and then

My heart my writing signifies

            Writing has always been easy for me but it wasn’t until one teacher took the opportunity to tell me that I had a “voice” that I began to see just how far writing could take me. Writing became more than just a chore or a punishment; it was an outlet for me. I used this outlet to express myself in every situation possible. It’s obvious to see how writing has benefitted me because that’s how I captured the love of my now husband and it was through the written word that he captured mine.

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