What a Crayon Perhaps Hears...

Well this was the title of a 9th grade poem i wrote. but today its the title of my thoughts. i wonder as i sit next to the kids at preschool and color a picture with these old peeling crayons what they have heard for so long. Children laughing and crying. maybe they felt the anger when some young child needed to draw a picture to get out how hurt they were... i wonder if while i sit at home with my new crayons if they hear each tear as if it was a tidal wave when it hits the paper that i find myself drawing silly photos of me and ryan on. i wonder if it feels the amazement of a child when they first pick up a crayon and realize the power of wax and art. i wonder if it hears the inspirations that artist get by the way the crayon is being pressed against the paper. i cant help but wonder what it would be like to put that kind of color into the world. that kind of joy and that kind of release. things would be different. i would bring happiness to the lives around me. but i would want to be some exotic beautiful color that people searched and searched for because i was only in one box. that box would belong to a child. i would be there to hear them laugh and cry and maybe one day with there parents they would mend me into a nothing color melting me with some old crayons and some new beautiful crayons. and us crayons would share our memories of this child and we would all grow old together and then the crayon would be passed down. and we would relive each memory over and over like our life never ended, it would start new with each new owner. oh that would be the life. but i am human of course and now i sit here and wonder how can i bring joy and happiness to people of the world? can i be that ongoing emotional warrior... taking away the pain of people who are hurting around me and celebrating with them when they are happy? i will continue to ponder these thoughts for a while... i think Guatemala is a good start to be a crayon and make a difference.