When I look into their faces as I read them the poem, I still see the young man (who was almost constantly in a cast of some sort) sitting in a middle school classroom. I see his energy and exuberance in their young and promising eyes, and my heart breaks again… and again… and again.
Life is chaos and mess, and, yes, we have to work hard at it, but even in the decay there is something valuable. Perhaps, it is even something worth all the gold and luster being worn off so we can see it.
Not Frankenstein’s Monster, But Mine Pages waiting for breathe Dormant in anticipation of life Ink flowing, pouring emotion and being Bleeding and pumping Creating something moving, beautiful, and disturbing The monster in me breaks free. -Rebecca Burtram