What I love about being part of a writing group is how distinctly unique we are as individuals. We all have our own voice when it comes to writing. No two the same. We all have our own beliefs and yet I have never seen a division among us when it comes to those. I think we really just encourage each other to put our own voice to pen. I am the one whose voice tends to write stories of loss and death. I know…I never planned to write this way! I also tend to lean towards my faith that itself has been a roller coaster ride from day one to the next. My writing often reflects that as well. Here is a little piece written maybe during a time where the devil on my shoulder had won.
Listening Bird
What happens when you really listen?
There are things you hear…you never would have
If the listening bird had never sung her song
The things we do wrong
Gently told in the listening bird’s song
Pride in the hearing’s way
The maker of the listening bird
His winds blow gently away
Your heart hears the tale
Of sins, of crimes
The maker of the listening bird
Paid for with His life
Close your eyes, still your soul
Her song will set you free
The maker of the listening bird
Has shown to me
Without her wings
Blind you will stay
Listen to her song
To heaven she will guide you all the way
Copyright © 2016 Anne Carpenter
