My TOOLBOX

I never speak on other poet's poetry. Sounds crazy, right!?! When I was at a woman's shelter, I developed a wonderful, vulnerable relationship with the founders. I cooked many Sundays with, I'll call her Susan. Her husband, Dan loved poetry and asked me to feel free to share with him. His wife encouraged me. I wrote a poem called, "Losing My Life." He called me into his office and was so deeply moved by it, that he was acting visiby shaken. He called it a "piece." I didn't know it then, but I had opened his heart. What followed was a little girl, who never had a dad, playing in his heart. I watched him bloom ("My Strand of Pearls") as he declared himself to be my mentor. I watched his wife, slowly start pulling away from me. In the end, Susan became so disgusted with me, she yelled at me, "Just stop it! Stop writing! If you must write, write for yourself!" The wound was so deep, for six months I couldn't write one word. It took Jesus, giving me a dream, that showed me, I was "The Jailer." Since then, I have never given the God-Given authority and power of my gift to another. WORD belongs to Jesus and I write in reverence of that TRUTH. Poetry is to me like an instrument is to a musician. I need it to process large concepts. I said all that to say, thank you so much for your time and comments...and if my processing speaks to you, thank you for the company on the journey.