Priming the Pump

I write
like opening a window
like listening to the wind
pulling the chariot
of the sun
above the horizon

I write
like surfing a wave
like skimming the surface
on the ocean
of longing
near the shore

I write
like the violin
like the bow crossing
finely tuned strings
making music
from what stretches

I write
like a cat purring
like paws pulling
at the old grey chair
saying this world is mine
saying watch this

I write to discover. I write to uncover and unleash. I write to undo, redo, make do with the world as it comes to my doorstep. I write to record the days, the weeks, the years inside of me. I write to remember, reflect, recharge. I write to leave a legacy.

I write to have a reason to rise in the morning, to enter the day slowly, to exit with grace. I write to exercise my hand, to improve my writing. I write because I must, because I always have, because I always will. I write for surprises and sudden insights.

I write to understand myself and others. I write to make sense of the world and to build stability in  my life. I write for the joy of words and to make meaning. I write because my hand likes to dash across the blue lines. I write, I write, I write some more.

I write essays and poetry. I write stories. I write letters and I write blogs. I write notes on the refrigerator. I write because it’s fun and generates happiness.  I write to practice, to play, to connect. I write to prime the pump and put water in the word pond.

Why do you write?