Through Veterans’ Voices 
I was blessed 
with important personal choices,
essay, art, photo or poem,
of current thoughts and feelings,
and of memories long gone.

I went there to submit,
but then I started to read,
and then I read some more,
fulfilling more than ego need,
seeing the wondrous minds at work there,
the brilliance of their concepts laid bare,
their surprise endings often haunting,
sometimes a little daunting.
I don’t think I’d call it jealousy,
but I do experience ink envy.
I have to wonder why I’d bother
with so many marvelous pieces each issue,
a million beautiful words in play.
Why should I write, submit?
What does one more poet have to say?

I tell lots of stories, 
so that’s no problem, 
and it’s too late now to worry about
too much exposure, fear,
regrets or even doubt.
Ultimately, there is only one choice.
I will write because I have a voice.
I will write for the pure expression of life,
about my joys and fears and hopes,
certainly about love,
of the Grace some refer to 
as from somewhere else above.

I will write, inspired by the writing of others,
especially by veterans, my sisters and brothers,
by the natural world in constant motion,
by speechless days at the nearby ocean,
by the sun and the moon,
their setting and rising,
their colors and moods
sometimes surprising.

I will audaciously write 
of great hopes, of grand schemes,
daring to be the artist
of my very own dreams.
Not really fearless,
not in any way,
I will write to discover what
I don’t otherwise know how to say.

As age has flattened me,
as humility has claimed me,
I now write more about Spirit,
about oneness, about transition.
I don’t know what tomorrow will bring.
I’m simply sure I will write to be near it.