Sunday, December 16, 2012

Day 271

What if I can't write this poem?  I have 5 days left.  It looms over me, taunting my empty brain.  I can't remember the last time words just wouldn't come.  I think I have completely psyched myself out of this.  My friend prayed about it and felt strongly that I should write this for her family.  And that's a lot to live up to.  I have all the pieces in place, and the words still aren't coming.

How long have I had this assignment?  I thought I had a gift of words.  I wasn't worried.  I hear these lovely passages and wish it was me who wrote them.  But I wrote enough and had enough experience at feeling like I nailed something or wrote something of value that it all equaled out in the end. 

I know this can be simple, but still the words won't come.  I listen to music.  I don't listen to music.  I walk around with notebooks, keep them by my bed, listen in the shower, picture this family in my head, picture myself writing this masterpiece, but nothing...

I even sat by my friend K today in Gospel Doctrine and read the passage in Ether where they lament their weakness in writing and wish the people reading could hear their speaking because it is so much stronger.  I have always felt that way about my writing and its like its a dry well in there.  K told me she wasn't worried about it at all and knew I would be able to do this.  How can she believe this and I can't?  Where is my belief/faith in this?  I've been praying-I even had T give me a blessing.  Nothing was mentioned about this poem specifically, just that the Lord loves me and is mindful of my prayers.

I know I need faith.  I know it.  If this was just for myself...but I adore this family and I don't want to let my friend down.  I don't want to write drivel in describing this family.  I don't want her to feel like her prayer wasn't answered or that I was the wrong person to write this for her.  I can write poetry.  How many poems have I written in my life?  How many?  I have been writing since I was 7 years old.  I'm a writer, aren't I?  I mean, I've written about house plants and snails and feuding couples and babies and anything made to order for whoever needs something.  I can pull them out of my least I thought I could.

I think I have too much pride.  I need humility.  I may be able to consider myself a writer, but that is only because that is how I choose to express myself where I aren't just trying to turn my weakness into strength.  That's reserved for speaking.  Crap.  I know I can do this.  I know...

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