cin salach

Poetry was my first language.

There I was, little eight-year-old me, alone in my lilac bedroom, poeting away in my purple diary with the gold lock while the Monkees (pre-adolescence) and David Bowie (adolescence) played on my portable turntable. Chchchchchanges.

The second I started writing poems, I felt my soul settle into my skin, and my heart break into a grin. At last, I could understand myself! At last, I could understand everyone else!

Now that I’m all grown up, nothing has changed. Poetry is still my preferred language. Writing it, publishing it, performing it, collaborating with it, raging with it, aging with it, healing with it, loving the world with it. 

To quote the brilliant Mary Oliver: “Tell me, what else should I have done?”