It has been a month since I decided to attempt this social media experiment to promote my poetry book “Life at the End of the Rainbow.” I told friends and family about it, but alas only two people have even bought it. It is available on Amazon.com/books for only $7.99. Not exactly a bank buster. I guess in our chronically busy world people are just simply too caught up in their own lives to take a few minutes to purchase a poetry book written by a friend, by a family member. People who have known me for decades know just how passionate I am about my poetry, about my writing. I would have expected more support than this. I am truly not surprised, however.
This lonely planet filled to brim with people is truly a lonely place. I write not for fame, but rather because I want to have left something of my existence in this lonely place. Precious few people who have ever existed are actually remembered. Yet, we rush about our busy lives to our jobs; get eyeball deep in debt for stuff we cannot take with us, waste endless hours staring into television screens/computer screens/movie screens completely ignoring the fleeting beauty that is this fragile life. Before ourselves we set unobtainable perfection. We disrespect the holiness of this miracle called life. Yet, we continue rushing toward tomorrow as if we can ever truly reach it. Tomorrow is always the obtainable “happiness.” We ignore the laughter, the love that it right in front of each us. Fleeting, this life is fragile, so fleeting.
My poetry is my gift to this world. It is my way to reach out in this lonely universe. No, I don’t expect to win the Nobel Prize in Poetry nor do I expect to write an earth-shattering epiphany that makes multitudes pause and gasp at my brilliance. No, that’s not what motivates me. I am motivated by my heart’s desire, my soul’s desire to capture in words this world’s beauty, this world’s mysteries. I want to be remembered for my words; I want to live on through my words. Hopefully, something I write will touch someone’s heart and make them feel less alone in this lonely place. In our rush towards that unobtainable happiness, that illusion called tomorrow, we are simply rushing headlong into our own forgetting.
The psalmist said it best in Psalm 90: 9-10:
9- All our days pass away. Under your wrath; we finish our years with a moan.
10-Our days may come to seventy years, or eighty if our strengths endures;
yet the best of them are but trouble and sorrow,
for they quickly pass,
and we fly away.
This scripture in its stark honesty is telling us to be aware of the fleetingness of this existence. “We fly away.” Yes, and what of what we leave behind in our inevitable parting from this earth? What do you want to leave behind in this lonely space?
I want to leave my words behind.
I want my memory to live on through my words. My words are my gift to those whom I love and those whom I will never meet in this lonely space.
This blog was about writer’s block.
I guess by just writing freely about those points I feel passionate about I have unblocked myself. Freed myself from what was holding me back-my disappointment at those whom I love not taking a few minutes to get my book. This book-this poetry book-is my own story of loss, of hurt, of disappointment so deep I thought at one point I would be unable to take another step forward. Writing freed me from this darkness that is inevitable in this lonely space-We are so alone in an endless sea of people, of souls passing through to their own forgetfulness. Rushing forward as if time will go on forever; as if those whom they love will always be here.
“We all fly away.”
I reach for God in my darkest hour;
That destiny beyond the hurt of this empty life,
His peace fills my soul with strength and power.
Lonely hour; darkness falls,
God’s light, His voice calls.
I reach for my Father God;
Jesus whispers into my soul comfort, assurance that I am not alone.
I am not alone,
even if I am in this empty space.
Poem by Jenny Andrews
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Thank you for reading!
If you get a break from your busy lives, please check out my poetry book.