I always thought April was my favorite month. I finally realized it is not. I've been delusional all these years. It is cold, messy and unpredictable. A time of both letting go and going forward all at once; clinging to the past, reaching for the future. I glad it's over. It was only the fantasy that drew me.
Poetry stirs you. It's way more than just writing words that rhyme or writing a lot in a little. It's digging deep into subjects that matter to you. It's vulnerability exposed. It's all your lunacy and sanity thrown out there for all to see.
You can't measure one pain with another. I went through a weekend with a really bad abscessed tooth combined with a freaky off balance equilibrium issue. Lasted 4 days. My son had a kidney stone. Yes, each one of us would have had said the other would be better. The pain you are in is the worst pain for you at the time. There is no "worst pain' you can have. You can always have worse. Nice thought, huh?
Sometimes hope is hidden in the things we don't want to deal with. This thought is being realized and it makes me want to deal with things that I have been afraid of for such a long time. If I am going to write about hope, I want to see it in all it's reality.
I watch too many mysteries. I gravitate to them. I'm obsessed. I am beginning to wean some this month (and whine), just to find some much needed balance.