Why?
Virginia Salter

why do you write
oh, Author?
Why do you put pen to the page,
plume to the canvas
key to the pad

is it to be read?
who’s reading?
is it to be fed?
who’s feeding?
is it to use ink,
energy, power, space?
why do you, oh writer, fill up reams
reams of paper
reams of rag
why do you play with words
like chasing in tag?

this writer has written
with dreams oh so grand
that readers would teem across this fine land
this writer has written her heart, her soul,
yet nothing at all seems to make her feel whole

she feels perforated
with uselessness
riddled with arrows
shot in the night
anguished and strafed
blown out of sight

there’s no reason to be
racked with such thoughts
the One who has made her
wouldn’t have her distraught

so why does she linger
in thoughts filled with pain
why can’t she find
the color after the rain?

© June 5, 2001