Worth Writing For

The ache in a child's voice, asking why the sky is bruised. That's worth writing for. The quiet resilience of a neighbor, tending a rooftop garden amidst the city's clamor. That's worth writing for. The memory of a grandmother's hands, knitting stories into every stitch. That's worth writing for. The fierce, fragile hope of a community rebuilding after the storm's fury. That's worth writing for. The dawning understanding in a student's eyes, a spark ignited. That's worth writing for. The stories untold, the perspectives unheard, the silences that yearn to break. They are worth writing for. Because within these fragments, within the everyday extraordinary, lies the very pulse of being. And to capture that, to give it voice, is always, always worth writing for. ©bfa041825