To my amazement once I started writing, what I thought would be a short story, the words just flowed from me like water release from a dam. Now this is not to say that the water is drinkable nor in this case that the words are publishable or worthy of such an honor. It was just a refreshing release of all that was once held within. A rush like that of no other I have ever felt.

Taking up what little courage I had, I ventured outward. Timidly I let friends and family open those precious pages. Allowing them to read what I had so furiously wrote as fast as my pen could write as my mind raced onward. I was left to Wonder if they could see me within those words and scared to death that I have revealed more than I had intended.

Whether the books were truly enjoyable as they expressed or whether they were just amazed that I could put so many words together at once, didn't matter to me. As the books served their purpose. They served as a means to cauterize the wounds of time.

Later I learned that poetry can do the same. It came to my astonishment when I realized that much of the writings came at a time when release was needed. Release from pain, confusion, sorrow, etc. Few times did I sit down and pick up that pen to record the times of joy and triumph. Instead I savored them.

I hope that you too find your means of healing.

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My Books

• The Photograph
• Willow Dance
• Haunted Past