A Written Soul (A Poem)

By Joyce Jacobo

[Author’s Note: More musings on the creative process.]

I have read that writing reflects its author

   as if texts were images upon a pond surface

But unlike a pond that ripples and changes

   what writers set down on a page can linger

   centuries after we have disappeared into time

Sometimes I wonder in quiet moments

    much of our identity gets crafted into the words

   that make up the creative works we weave together

Are traces of our souls left behind in what we create

    fragments that hint at a larger picture scattered about

    with great care in whatever we choose to bring to life?

How much can we ever place of ourselves

     down on a piece of paper?

Can a person come to know the soul of another

     based on what she or he writes for the world?

I lay awake at night sometimes

     with many such questions in mind

Advertisement