“What is your purpose?”
She asked earnestly.
I stared back blankly.
What is my purpose?
Like a confused sixteen year old,
I slouched shaking my head.
Suddenly the whole world was available,
yet I didn’t know what I wanted.
The next day,
ideas rained
drenching me
I loved teaching,
am passionate about it,
but damn if it didn’t wear me down.
I loved writing and am happiest creating,
but damn if I didn’t doubt myself.
Purpose, passion, work
Where do they intersect?
More importantly,
How can a girl find this intersection?
So I sit searching faithfully for it.
Living, creating, loving, laughing
Searching, searching, searching
Lost and free
I feel and see
that this definition
the largest of all
I may not write
for years to come.
Some may have it
as a birthright
Yet, I don’t have it
not yet at least–
I sit back and stare
blankly into the horizon
asking for answers for me and me.
Then a voice, a familiar one
it shares a script
four tiny lines,
so easily spoken:
you love it—passion
you’re great at it
the world needs it
you are paid for it
that’s your purpose;
so go find it, my girl!
