As I continued to write, I discovered something about myself. As I began to read all that I had written, I was taken aback. I was reading poetry, I was writing poems. I told myself that... My son had to leave this earth, for me to find my worth. My calling was to write. Am I a writer? Can this be real? Did I have to go through an unbearable Pain to CLAIM my name. Did I have to lose in order to gain? Was my son the sacrifice for my life?
I know that I must not question GOD. BUT.....
NO I cannot believe this, I will not CONCEIVE .
And so I just dismissed that whole unrealistic theory, and so I will not question GOD.
But I will believe what I can see with my own two eyes, and that is I am a writer. The timing of this a merely a coincidence, and as far as I am concerned the subject is closed.
And so I thank GOD my son and the Universe, for giving me another chance at life.
YOU ARE READING
"SIXTEEN CANDLES"
Non-FictionAnother Drive-by...."His Name Was Eli Williams" ELI THE SPIRIT THAT NEVER DIES (ELI LIVES IN ME )
