A Presence In My LIfe

(In May of 2000 I, with the help of family, had self published
a hard cover book of poetry called Kiss The Moon;  A Woman
Speaks and Gives Grace. Except for a few copies I held back,
500 books were sold.   In the front of the book I explained how
the poetry came to be.   It will help explain  questions put to me
and show the road traveled.  The words are simple,
the work unbelievable.)

The sun was bright coming in through the high windows on
that first day of English Lit at the University.   The professor
was introducing herself  and I don’t know when my attention
wavered but when I looked down I found I had written these words,
`Fear death, ahhhh I do because I love life so much’!  I did not
know where these words came from but it was an affirmation and
I realized they had always been true.   Even today there would be
argument as to their source.  My thoughts mix smoothly with what
I consider a given and myself the instrument through which they
come.  I know when the work is mine.   I also know when a
thought is inserted or given.   And when one is given, there is
a giver or givers.

A leap must be taken when the truth of that statement is
confronted.  It is the reason people go to their places of worship
and as a friend said, that what we  hope is true.  Yet when faced
daily with significant events or thoughts, it is a puzzlement as to
why the  evidence does not speak to the person.   It will
eventually and when it does,  it will be the right time.

For me the beginning was in the classroom but took possession
of  a corner of my mind and stayed there while other things were
happening. Though I was alert to the thoughts that seemed to come
from nowhere,  there was this portion that tested the limits of what
was my history.  And one night while sitting at my desk I found
words tumbling over themselves and when I was finished a poem
was born.  I wondered how this came about and surely I must
have memorized this long ago.   Nowhere could I find this poem
and it was not the kind I would do on my own.  I read it to the family
and they laughed because it was comical, though philosophical,
and we let it go.  No one of course believed how it came to be.

It took a letter to my mother to convince me there was a
Presence in my life.  I started the letter and suddenly the
words were writing themselves and the missive was one of
good thinking and good psychology.  And from that point, the
muses or the Teachers as I called them were my mind

There are those who say that within the layers of the human
being there is knowledge and this knowledge rises when stresses
demand answers or directions.   This could very well be and
I do not argue this. But when a grateful heart murmurs a thank
you and the response in mind is you’re welcome followed by a
sense of rightness and companionship and love, then one
knows there is a Presence.

It has been a war of words over a lifetime.   A philosophy
has been hammered out and though it may not rest
comfortably with organized religion, still I have woven a
philosophical blanket with mended holes that has managed
to keep me warm.   It has taken all the years of my life and
it has been a hard work.  (I have no words to describe the work
involved.   None in my vocabulary.)  But I would not have
missed a day of it.

4 responses to “A Presence In My LIfe”

  1. This was beautiful, and I have always loved how you tell a story 🙂 I haven’t heard this one yet, you keep suprising me. Lots of LOVE!

  2. Jessie, You are wonderful. There was a reason we chose each other. Your star shines and I am glad you were one of the first to see this.

  3. Veronica, I only began writing poetry a few years ago. I call my style ‘sophomore-simple’. One of my first poems was written for my sister who is six years older than me. I basically explained how much I admired how she dealt with the wrath of my parents as she stepped gingerly through puberty. Her reaction and response inspired me to continue to grow my collection of work. I sometimes write at night and when I read my words the next morning I sometimes find it difficult to believe what I’ve written. Your story rings so true to me I had to return and read it one more time.

  4. John, as Shakespeare said, there are more things in heaven and earth Horatio. . . . .than were ever dreamed of, (so to speak) I am sorry I did not see your search earlier, thank you for following me. . . . .

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