I Couldn't Run From It
It is my refuge, my quiet, safe place—
The one place I can go to be free.
A warm space of peace and harmony,
It's the Christmas gift I didn't choose.
Instead, it chose me.
And unlike Jonah, I didn't run to sea.
Often, I find myself in the hushed space of my room.
Sometimes, in my car or anywhere, I can steal a moment of silent revelry.
From there, I allow divine creativity to ignite.
A spark I can't run from, elude, or hide.
Because it dwells deep inside me.
It is from these great depths that it continues to call me,
Sometimes during the day, but mostly at night.
Then it spills out from my pen onto crisp white sheets of paper, which feels so right.
(Laughing)
I couldn't run from it if I wanted to.
A loaded pen, some paper, and the words that spew.
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