So much of what I write never makes it off the quiet page of my journals. I have leaning stacks of notebooks, filled with underlined poems, grievous stories, and humbling realizations hidden in dark closets and creaking desk drawers. I want to change this. This pandemic has left me another person, one who is longing for deeper connections and more intimate sharing. One thing I know for certain is I would not be alive had I not been buoyed by the poets and healers who have graced my path.
Each one selflessly offering whatever shards of light and understanding they have gained to help soften the path for others. I want to live as generously as those who have helped me. I want to die beautifully worn from giving and sharing the light that washed over the ground in front of me. Our stories mean mountains to one another, so I am here to share more in the face of this fickle, fleeting life because… it matters