With poems, I can whisper my secret desires.
I can reveal the truth of how I feel. I am free from the shadows of fear, that keep me from singing.
I can break free from the script I’ve been given. I can tell the truth.
Poetry makes beauty out of my pain.
My vast love for this ability, the thankfulness of my voice embodying my words. The ability share with you my feelings in stanzas and lines, what wonder!
And yet, there are days for poetry. Days in which my sorrow cannot be described, when the feelings overwhelm my senses. Days in which the love I feel can only be expressed in declarations in the form of poems.
And there are days in which I can only express myself in writing that is longer, and more exposed. Because I am guilty of using poetry to hide myself from the pain of the basic truth. Poems allow me to express myself without having to explain the pain in those words.
And perhaps, the season of yesterday can be expressed in stories or descriptive flights of fancy.
It might be time for the pain to be exposed in the light of truth.