Why Do I Write?

What is this infinite longing in my soul?

From where does it begin?

Why does it beget such a stirring,

a chasm from within?

I write to be heard

Cry out to be found

Can you hear my voice?

Did I make a sound?

I speak to move

I listen to hear

my father, my savior

Can he be near?

What is hope?

A door propped open?

One who denies but still watches,

searching the night for the rays of dawn?

Will it be enough?

Why do I write?

What is my aim?

I want to be heard,

and felt just the same. 

Duane Windell Phillips © March 2015

#poetry