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I think I am getting ready to step into a new place of writing. I want these young people to remind us all of that place we once were and that when we draw that sword of our pen, to be precise, brave, and not replace that blade until we draw forth the blood of truth and bravery.

I want to see it flash in the sun and reflect the world around me. I want to pull out that katana in my soul resting in a velvet lined case and sharpen the edge again. I want to rage against the machine, to speak words of truth instead of words that are softened by life knowledge and lessons. This day when I am brought face to face with deep grief, I read these young voices and I want to be like this again. I remember the words of Holden Caulfield as he said that crying was like pissing that pain and memory away. Somehow as I learned to swallow tears, those tears quenched much of the fire in me. I was not guilty in my youth but I was sarcastic and brave and spoke what was there in front of me with words like acid in my mouth. And now, in deep grief over the death of a loved one, I find myself writing poems that sound as I did in my youth, that sound when I discovered that pain and bitterness and guilt. I had not yet learned about masks, being temperate, finding the right words. The blood raged through my veins and I had no reason to fear speaking my mind. In my young older age, I am reminded of when I wrote poetry when I was under 25. You Amazon, you Gloria, you Swiss army knife of a woman. Let us run into the streets hungry, fervent, ablaze.Ī captive animal, woken with a taste for blood. Let us no longer keep keys in our knuckles Let us spit and snarl and rattle the hatches

Let us never evolve to be good or beautiful Let us want none of what anchored our mothers

Let us vacate these badly lit odd little towns Let us escape these attics still mad, still drunk, still raving Let us learn how to leave with clean and empty hearts Let us build bonfires of those unanswered prayers. Or going back to old loves for the safety. Or else waiting alone in unclaimed ugliness.