Why I Write

My daughter asked, “Why do you write?”
Truthfully, I thought, I don’t know why
In all my grades, I could never get it right
My creative mind was always dry
I was a stutterer and words were hard
Few took the time to listen
I felt invisible, my psyche marred
I was trapped inside and longed to be free

With no thought in their minds of
The words I might say
I became a listener
A talker to few

Friends would pontificate day by day
No words could I get in
No concepts new
And then came PTSD

It’s harder to talk when your mind isn’t there
It could be drugs, depression, anxiety, fear
There are things I would say
But it’s just not fair
Words don’t come easily for those you hold near
But writing is a friend
I can take as long as I please
It waits for me faithfully
It never is unkind
Electronic words I can express with ease
Moving them around to say what I mean
When I bestow a poem on someone I care
It’s a gift of thoughts, understanding and such
They listen to my words when I’m not there
They give me the attention I need so much
My poems are not all about me
I write to share my understanding
And give my soul sight
So, you can see
What veterans feel, believe, and live

-W.D. Federation

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