I happened upon some old poetry that I wrote the other night.  I was astonished at the effect it had on me.

Writing brings to life what is going on inside of me.  Something physical happens when I write a poem. Sometimes a weight is lifted off of my shoulders.  More often than not, there is a burden that comes with the words on paper.  I don’t write these things for myself.  They are written to raise awareness of a cause.  They are written with a person in mind.  My words are refined and raw at the same time…like a controlled dance between a pen, paper and my brain.  The words take on a life of their own.

Reading the words, even 5 years after they are written, takes me to the moment the poetry was penned.  I can see the sights, smell the smells, hear the sounds.  

I have some poetry simmering right below the surface.  I can hear the beginning of one.  I don’t know if it’ll be for public consumption…