“I want to be with those who know secret things or else alone.” ― Rainer Maria Rilke
Poetry has always filled the anxious spaces of my life. Has been the ideal holder of "secret things." Now the words that comforted and informed are more difficult to find. Many of you feel this same malaise.
I ask writer friends if they are writing and some are writing more, others have quit entirely. They wait for their muse to return. They wait for life to return to normal. We all wait for the ease of travel. The ease of choosing. The ease of not worrying.
My suspicion is that we are not returning to the old way of life. We are living a different storyline that has not been written. As we transition into whatever comes next, please choose compassion over hatred. Whether using our words in a poem or in a social media comment, our words do matter. Poets living in the liminal spaces know this better than anyone.