Since sixth grade, I’ve kept all my writing in a shoe box – most inked in pen, some typed out. I call it my Box of Joy – each word carefully chosen, each essay carefully researched, each idea carefully reflected upon, each poem crafted with care. A common thread prevails – the complex beauty of the human spirit. Charged by the emotion of the day – an unwavering passion for change, a humble moment amplifying free will, a revelation of the soul. To be human is to think, to create, to build, to share, to move forward, to love.
I fell in love with language early on – intoxicated by the timeless power and artistry of words to soothe weary souls, to move proverbial mountains, to express the collective ethos of a people when souls and mountains collide. The latter ne’er more relevant than today. In the sixth grade, I wrote one of my first poems, A Pen of Freedom. I read it again recently, it brought me joy. It made me feel the collective ethos of this moment.
A Pen of Freedom
– a poem by Nancy Fijan
A perky little pen
Prancing on a page
Pauses.
Tempers fly
Hurtling through space
The little pen finds itself on the floor
Frustration is inevitable
When freedom’s ink runs out.
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