for years and years and years i've written poetry. i began like most girls - around age thirteen, recording early love in gifted journals. later - age fifteen: my own journal covered in india cotton...poetry and cigarettes at sunset in the sand by the lake with my best friend - she and i birthed each other's inner poet (it is the single most important legacy of that friendship). my words evolved over the years, keeping up with me. it's always been around, threading softly through each moment, each tragedy.
i'm starting the poetry project as a place to publish bits and pieces of poems and prose poetry that i've written over the years. it is a project of unearthing and dusting off, a project of release and renewal, of bravery and belief. perhaps i will sometimes publish new poetry, fresh off the press, but for now, i know i will start with older things. i've collected so much, and with this (a bow and a breath), i'll begin to share.
love fades slowly, and then surges again. like the tides, yes... like the moon, yes.... but also like an entire planet, a whole season. the solstice came again, the moon whispered her longest words and our heads bowed in reverance. the light of the moon stayed longer than before, and longer than is to come. though it marks the first day of winter... to me, it marks the first day of spring. now, each day will become longer. bit by bit the light will sustain, the sun will set slower, and the morning will be brighter, until suddenly it will be blossoming all around us: the grass in the gutters, the trees on the curb, the smiles from the babies. all things that were planted and resting will suddenly spring to life and smell good. i won't be able to sit still; the love will take a new shape, dancing toward fruition.
- December 28, 2006