Through my life there trembles, without complaint
or sighs, a deep, dark pain.
My dreams of pure snow blossoms
consecrate the stillest day.
But oft my path encounters
the great question. I become small
and cold, like a lake
whose waters I dare not measure.
Then a sorrow overcomes me, a sorrow
like the dullest gray of summer nights
through which but one star shines.
My hands reach out for love
and I would gladly pray out loud
words my fevered tongue can’t find.

I have live a life of pain and confusion; shame has ruled over my mind, and I have believed every word that hurt me. Like eternal damnation my mistakes, faults, and fears wrap themselves around my throat as my feet press into the ground in order to breathe. Against the confusion, however, I have discovered a love that requires a keen eye; with each breathe I learn to forgive myself, and those that have shamed me. My only dream is to live through my art; learning to take the doubt, insecurity, loneliness, and put everything onto the page. Often I forget to breathe and the rope becomes even tighter as I sink into despair before retreating into a quietness that is filled only with the screams of the voices that brought me into this place. I suffer in this place, but deep within my soul I desire to know love, and this is my salvation; even though I have never loved, I have heard the sound of cicadas in the Texas trees and heard the sound of baby’s laugh and watched spouses sit quietly within each other’s presence. I am learning to cease reaching for peace within the eyes of a world that only leaves me painfully confused. And as I continue to fight against the unknown, I take a breathe for every moment I forget to breathe.

A beautiful collection of letters that is a great companion for every artist; each letter provides wisdom on the obstacles we all face, and provides insight into overcoming the inhibitors to our success. Letters to a young poet should be read by every artist; whether you are a healer, yogi, astrologist, reiki initiate, or poet this collection should be kept on your hip.

Letters to a young poet