Why...?
When I was ten years old I somehow ended up in a summer camp for creative writing held at Magsig Middle School in Centerville, Ohio. My mother probably signed me up in order to avoid having me around while school was out, although, I remember the sense of caché the teacher who was running the camp cast over the fact of our group’s admission.
I had a yellow journal that I wrote poems in. That’s all I wrote back then. Poems that often were written in shapes. There was a butterfly poem shaped as a butterfly. There was a rainbow poem in the shape of a rainbow. And today, I was thinking about the poem I had written in the shape of a big, fat question mark. The title of the poem, of course, was Why?.
It came to mind because I caught myself asking questions of the world while knowing full well that I will likely never know the answers.
