As my introductory column (my journalism background won't let me call it a blog post just yet), I thought I would share with you a little story.
As I approach the end of my sixth decade on this earlthy plane, I am still amazed to find that change remains the only constant. For me, life has been a series of ill-fated attempts to "leave my mark" on the world, first as a journalist, now as a college professor. I must admit my new-found joy - the classroom - makes my having some sort of positive impact on others much more likely. But when change happens to oneself, it can be many things ... unsettling ... confusing ... frightening ... liberating ... inspiring!
For me, change certainly is a constant; I thrive on it. Recently, someone came into my life that has made me rethink many of my own feelings about myself, my life, my friends, my future. For a while now, I have felt something was holding me back, keeping me from expressing what is within me. But I am beginning to feel that weight lifted from my soul ... there is a freedom growing inside of me that is finding its voice!
Today, for the first time in 20 years, poetry flowed from my virtual pen onto electronic paper, an expression, in part, of the changes that are happening in and around me. The words that follow are the first honest expression of my feelings that I have made in a long, long time ...
Who Decides?
Who decides what love is?
What sense it makes,
What road it takes into our hearts,
Which heart it breaks along that ride, How much it will hurt.
Who decides?
Who decides what love is not?
Which love is bad,
Which can be had by those of us seeking, Which love is worth the work
and tweaking that will make it last.
Who decides?
Who decides when love is ours,?
Should we be happy,
or are we sappy to think our love is one that surely will rise above
the whispers?
Who decides?
We do.
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