Posted: January 22, 2016
To be honest, I’m floundering in my newfound life as a stay at home writer. I’m sure this is normal for anyone who makes such a leap into the unknown. I question whether I really have what it takes. I’m reorganizing and rearranging everything in the house, but when it comes to getting down to the actual writing, I’m petrified and wonder if I did the right thing.
While sorting through all my previous writings, I came across this poem. It fits what I’m going through at the moment, but I wrote it about six years ago. I believe this poem would define what many of us go through at some point in our lives. Change is good, but scary. Finding our true selves is hard work and a never ending process, at least for me.
I’m thankful to have been given this chance and determined not to waste it. This desire to write has nagged at me since I was in the fifth grade, through raising three beautiful daughters and working for the state of South Dakota for twenty seven years. It never left me. Through all the turmoil of my life, it was there haunting me. I may be fifty-seven years old, but I am just getting started!
For anyone reading this, I urge you to never let that part of yourself die – that yearning for what is calling out to you in your sleep, entrenched inside, refusing to leave you at peace. There is a reason it’s there. It is you, it is what you were meant to do and it is who God created you to be. If you haven’t figured out what that is yet, lean into it and let it find you. Don’t fight what gives you passion. Don’t run from it. Embrace it, for it is who you are!
There is something there entrenched inside
Nagging to get out.
I can’t quite grasp it to wrench it free,
To understand where it wants me to go,
Or decipher what message it is transmitting.
It beckons me, yearning to be heard.
I can ignore it, but when sitting there in silence
It cries out causing me to suffer,
Baffled and puzzled about its existence.
Its mere presence scares me a bit,
As it wanders and meanders through my soul,
Seeking to catch my attention,
It drives me to listen to its summons.
It is and it needs me to comprehend its muffled screams.
It begins as soon as I am conscious,
And appears to end as I reach a deep state of sleep,
Yet still yelling out somewhere in my dreams,
Haunting me as it calls.
It spirals and jumps just out of touch
Where I can’t quite grasp its meaning.
It gives, inspires and then yanks me back,
Leaving me crazed and dazed.
It opens and then slams shut in my face.
It comes near and leaps, just out of range.
Then I recognize it is me.
Written by Rita Weatherbee