So many writers complain of stalls, writer’s block, staring at a blank monitor, etc. that I am so very grateful that I feel inspired almost every moment of every day. If I could sit in one little room with my computer, a fridge, stove (or just cookies) and potty chair I’d be happily busy for many years. I’m barely getting basics done; have cut back classes to only one per semester, am sadly deficient as a housekeeper and almost but not quite yet willing to allow my husband his offer of turning his underwear inside-out and so I do the laundry, and framing customers are luckily loyal enough to wait a month or longer than the used-to-be-quoted two week turnaround time.
But other things have overpowered even my rampant creative spirit lately, some very personal and I must hold them above my own self-serving need to write. Others, as noted in the post below, so very important and yet beyond my knowledge or abilities to help without a great input of time and effort, only leave me near the point of tears of frustration and self doubt.
I asked myself here a few weeks ago, how can poetry and politics mix. I do of course understand that political issues and world issues can and should very skillfully and effectively use poetry and all forms of literature to help the causes, but it’s not something I can handle with my limits of time and intelligence, nor a fragile hold on sanity.
And so I stick to what little I am capable of, and maybe in a much smaller way define the human spirit and address its nature on an individual level. I apologize for my lack of ability, and hope to grow beyond the very limitation of my own mind.
The Lost Children: A Charity Anthology