My stomach starts to coil in knots whenever I think of betraying the story of my life and placing it upon a public medium or forum where all those who care to read it may read it.
I find poetry safer, much less stark than prose. Metaphor allows for obscurity, veiled and hinted meanings that are open to speculation and conclusion but remain unconfirmed.
I begin to wonder, though, if I've lost something in my strides toward more complex verse. Do grief and misery become things lessened by lack of proper exposition? I hope not, for the exorcism of words is without use then, and I've failed to find relief in the telling.
I find poetry safer, much less stark than prose. Metaphor allows for obscurity, veiled and hinted meanings that are open to speculation and conclusion but remain unconfirmed.
I begin to wonder, though, if I've lost something in my strides toward more complex verse. Do grief and misery become things lessened by lack of proper exposition? I hope not, for the exorcism of words is without use then, and I've failed to find relief in the telling.
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