The Dawning of a Wordsmith

Music is my passion, and poetry is an essential element of music. The pulse of verse; the turn of phrase describing scenery, climate, scent, emotion; the blend of texture through structure - all culminate to create a canvas of sensation that can calm or assault the senses. I inherited the love of music and history from my father and my artistic abilities from my mother. I had a love affair with words from the day I discovered the word Periwinkle - I deemed it the most precious crayon in the box and wouldn’t color with it for fear of destroying its pristine appearance. I cherished every lofty word I came across and used them to create a world that was far, far away from my mundane, everyday life in the small town of Bridge City, Texas.

Bridge City was aptly named. You had to literally cross a bridge to get in or out. The only patch of land connecting it to the rest of the world was a swamp. It gave me the feeling of being isolated from the real world. Our community was small enough that I could walk from neighborhood to neighborhood to visit my friends.

Growing up I considered my plight to be a miserable one. Visions of dancing in the woods with fairies twirled around in my head to mask the reality of walking home in the heat after junior high marching band practice, all the while dragging a French horn that weighed more than I did. I dreamed of living in ancient castles or Victorian mansions, wearing long gowns and riding in carriages instead of an old car without air conditioning. I did not recognize the wealth of experiences I was gaining, nor did I appreciate the riches of love that surrounded me. Instead, I took it for naught and did not comprehend how life was molding my destiny until I was old enough to step back and see the whole tapestry after it was completed. When I was young all I saw was the one-color town, but I knew in my heart of hearts that there was much more than my minute world, because books filled with words told me so. They opened my mind to the wondrous varieties in life and were my transport from a small town girl to a woman of the world.

And who wants a world where all the colors in the box are the same? Where would music and the arts be without the offerings of heritages other than mine? What would life be like if we were all identical in race, creed and gender? Blah, I tell you! Life would be blah! I want a world filled with a mix of skins and thoughts. I want a world that celebrates the uniqueness of individuals. I want a world that rejoices together and supports one another no matter who we choose to love, so long as we do, indeed, love. Oh, and I want lofty words, lots and lots of lofty words, which I will continue to collect until I no longer have breath to utter them, or fingers to weave them together upon the page for others to enjoy.