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| CCO license, courtesy of Pexels.com |
I have
the right to write,
To tell a
story;
A
fairytale
Or
fantasy,
Perhaps
biography
Of
someone famous
Or even
unknown,
Whose
life has meaning.
I have
the right to write
For my
own heart's pleasure;
Clever
wordplay
Or quick
satire,
Perhaps
long essays
On your
politics
Or my
religion,
What
gives us meaning.
I have
the right to write
For money
and profit,
Reputation,
Or
short-lived fame,
Perhaps
self-publishing,
Traditional
print,
Or in
magazines.
Careers
with meaning.
I have
the right to write
My very
own story;
As comedy
Or
tragedy,
Perhaps
reality –
Survivor,
Thriver,
Or
Overcomer.
My life
has meaning.
I have
the right to write
But is
right my reason
To stain
white sheets
with
sweat and words,
Perhaps
reflect your life
In
creative lines
Or
imagery
That
gives you meaning?
I have
the right to write,
Just as
the wind blows here;
Sometimes
softly,
sometimes
harshly,
Perhaps
completely wild.
This wind
of nature,
My nature
to write,
Right
with no meaning
But that
I am.
Marnie practices her right to write from her home in Northern BC, where her writing and the wind blows softly, sometimes harshly, and sometimes completely wild.
