while reading a poem over at Nevine's, i was reminded of how deep poetry, and creative prose for that mater, reaches into my being. it is a living witness to the full gamut of my life, even though i am most driven to write when my spirit is in pain.

yes. for the scars that remain after the battered soul heals, for the ongoing hemorrhage of internal hope, for the fears arising from tortures too ghastly to be mentioned, for the pit of despair where rests stagnant laughter, mired in decay... for these pieces of the poet's being... there must be poetry. for in the words of the verse, hammered out on life's iron fist, i often find relief and sometimes, in moments of purest grace, wonderful questions.