Wordsmith

[I have loved writing for most of my 48 years. Like many things closest to us, we sometimes take for granted that which we hold dear. I have recently renewed my relationship with writing and have loved the second honeymoon! I must give thanks to my friends who have helped in the renewal. Having said that, I've been pondering over the craft of writing...]

One of the finest compliments a writer can receive is to refer to him or her as a "wordsmith." Like an athlete "in the zone," this conjures up images of the great ones and allows the newly great or someday great to feel hope and confidence.

I've been pondering over this word and as I did so, it struck me....

I have an uncle who is a blacksmith. Really. He lives in the country and creates glorious works of art in his shop- with heat, anvil and iron. And his eye for creating beauty from those simple things. From his dark sweat and grime emerge light and beauty. His works are sold at fine art places and the finest hotel shops along the east coast. He doesn't make horse shoes, he creates fireplace sets and kitchen hangings and beautiful pieces to grace a home and make it a more pleasant place to be. He twists and pulls the iron to milk every ounce of beauty from its simple strength. He evokes beauty from simplicity.

So it is with a wordsmith. From the simple and plain he extracts the beautiful and evocative. He has no need of verbosity or the ornate language of those who write to impress. He stretches and pulls and twists and wrestles with the words and brings forth a well-crafted sentence- and evocative paragraph- a thought-provoking idea. The key is the eye and the ability to forge the simple into the lovely. A turn of phrase. A spectacular image. A thought which demands an even greater thought from the reader.

Let us, as writers, make beauty from simplicity. Let us twist and wrestle and heat up our language that it might take on a new life in the mind of a reader. Let us forge spectacular, heart-stopping beauty from the lovely simplicity all around us. Let us be wordsmiths.

Training Wheels

The young boy wobbles less on his new bike,
And the training wheels disappear,
Leaving joy and doubt remaining-
both within and without.

The Father now assumes their role-
Supporting, lifting, providing safety.
But he continues to add encouragement, love and faith-
Things training wheels could never provide.

Yet so quickly, even the father is no longer needed.
Riding solo- wind in his face- free to fly or fall-- on his own.
Ecstasy of accomplishment and joy of freedom!
No outside influence or support from training wheels.... or dad.

But the faith, encouragement and love remain-- at the ready.
Both newly confident rider and anxious but proud observer know this.
And they find quiet comfort in the knowledge.

Now, the young man heads off to his first homecoming dance-
Taller, straighter, stronger- almost taller than Dad.
No training wheels.
No parents--- on his own.
Wind in his face again....Free!
To fly or fall.
But with the secure knowledge that
The love and faith and encouragement
Will always be there.

Training wheels- on call.