Sometimes only a poet can touch the truth.

thebeautifuldue's avatarthe beautiful due

No, it was not a dream.
We wake on bitter knees
playing 52 card pick-up.
Of the things that befall us
this one pierces deeper for
lost are the least of these.
The killing of children is
the killing of everything.
 
Tomorrow’s temptation will
be strong – to profess creeds
with uncrossed fingers.
Today we walk in shadows
of faith, that is, in doubt.
Suffer the little children.
They are going to be buried
for a long, long time.
 
 
 

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The Art of Being Still – NYTimes.com

The No. 1 question I get at readings is: “How many hours a day do you write?” I used to stumble on this question. I don’t write every day, but when I first started going on book tours I was afraid I’d be revealed as a true fraud if I admitted that. Sometimes I write for 20 minutes. Other times I don’t stop writing for six hours, falling over at the end like an emotional, wrung-out mess, simultaneously exhausted and exhilarated. Sometimes I go months without putting a word on the page.

One night, however, I was asked that question and the right answer just popped out, unknown to me before it found solidity on the air: “I write every waking minute,” I said. I meant, of course, that I am always writing in my head.

via The Art of Being Still – NYTimes.com.

Special thanks to Jessie van Eerden, Director of the Low-Residency MFA in Creative Writing Program at West Virginia Wesleyan College, for sharing this essay with incoming students.