One theme. One poet. One memoirist.

Friday, August 6, 2010

when it's personal

I am a memoirist. Or I like to think I am. I write about myself, about what’s personal, about my thoughts.

But I do not write everything about those things. (Nor do I think I really should.) There are certain parts of me that are under lock and key, that I don’t allow into my public writing.

I am a memoirist who doesn’t really want to reveal too much about herself.

But the poem I wrote for this theme is not that way. It cuts deep into where I’ve been this year. And sharing it with you is, well, hard. I’ve sat on this poem for about a week, debating about posting it or writing something else. And I’ve settled on posting it not because it’s a stellar poem (far from it) but because it makes me uncomfortable.

Writing is not about safety. Writing is about sharing a world with the reader, and that sharing leads to vulnerability, as is the case in any relationship.

So, dear reader, here—my heart.



Moments of Yes

The gentle pressure
of your hand
on the small of my back—
the steadiness
of your blue-grey eyes—
as you pull me toward you
to dance
to embrace
to move into a moment
we both know won’t last

The utter desperation
of the sun as it sets
leaving blues and oranges
gasping for breath
before they’re turned
into dark
and I step out of your
and into


  1. I'm really glad you decided to post this.

    I've had a few entries that I've been indecisive about posting (Early Summer, In Event of Fire) and I think they've helped tremendously.

    Writing, much like love, is risky.

  2. i love how brave and courageous you remind me to be!

  3. Thank you for taking the uncomfortable route. You are beautiful in your vulnerability.