Writing Prayer, by Deborah Williams (Delaware County/Main
Line Workshop)
If I keep my desk right where it is, perhaps
I can keep my thoughts flowing,
cascading from my brain,
through my arm, into
the pen and on to the paper.
If I keep my desk where it is and
my books on the shelf where they stand now,
sentinels to an adventure that still seems real,
that keeps me hoping to give a sense of story and drama and spirit,
yes, even that,
then perhaps I can keep myself whole.
But I am losing myself, living inside out, vulnerable
to the whole of eternity, past, present and future.
My thoughts flowing, flowing, flowing, becoming self, becoming spirit.
Like rainfall to the Ganga, like the rushing of crystalline waterfalls
or rivulets creeping downward from muddied and clogged ponds.
Just keep the pen going, going to India, that rich
source of
so much detail,
so much color,
so many smells,
sounds,
culture so textured and so layered.
How to get it all down.
It is a challenge to write so fast, so fast, so fast.
