Thursday, October 28, 2010

Pen Scratches


He sits with pen in hand,
and lined paper notebook.

How have I begged
and pleaded for scratches
of his?
A discipline
of the creative mind
held back
by the fears of the hand.

"You can't."
he hears.
"Not good enough,"
he thinks of his labored
left-handed scribbles.
And so he fought
and refused to write.

What changed from then
to now?

Perhaps the subject?

He thinks in battles
and loves stories
in the sky.

I think the story in his head
the words
and descriptions
and battle
fought to come out
and had to be written,
finally.

And so, in scribbly scratches,
words scrunched together,
he pens
his first epic.

And his accidental writer-mother
grins.

Because she knows.

Once begun,
an author
never ceases
picking up pen.

School in pjs today and prose at Emily's. Join us?

6 comments:

brian said...

big smiles. know that makes you feel good...

Jen @ Grow with graces said...

Beautiful.

in the hush of the moon said...

i dream of my son writing, too. he isn't even old enough to speak, yet, but i dream. what a treasure, to see him act in courage this way... picking up a pen is often as wielding a sword; and there are so many negative voices, for it's a lonely road, this being a writer--but we find comfort in the scratch against paper... a beautiful post, friend. i was right there with you. xo

Cara @ I Love my Sheets said...

So glad to meet you Kristina. Just read your "bio" ~ I too have a twin and three children. I'll be back to check out some other posts.

Alittlebitograce said...

beautiful. encouraging. and it made me smile. :)

Hyacynthworth said...

Oh, yes. That's how it begins. It's always always accidental, except for when you realize it wasn't. Because He knew.