Why do I Write?

Writing yet another poem I realized, 
I don’t truly know why I write;
for I’m not really someone to whom words 
come naturally, nor do I come from 
a family of great poets or writers.

Every poem I write requires a fair amount of 
time and efforts. My poems at best
are work in progress. In spite of all,
if I still write, there must be a reason.
I ponder for a while, but I’m still unanswered.

Poetry is not a tool to vent my feelings
or to escape the worldly affairs.
It isn’t a medium to satisfy my deep creative urge.
I do not seek any appreciation
nor do I want to send any message.

Then, why do I write?

Later I realized I write because 
My writes are my stories; 
my memories to revisit the past. 
They’re tales of my interactions
with nature, language, and society.