Caring for myself is not self-indulgence, it is self-preservation, and that is an act of political warfare.

Guilt is only another way of avoiding informed action.

For each of us as women, there is a dark place within, where hidden and growing our true spirit rises, beautiful and tough as chestnut stanchions against our nightmare of weakness. Within these deep places, each one of us holds an incredible reserve of creativity and power, of unexamined and unrecorded emotion and feeling

I am a bleak heroism of words that refuse to be buried alive with the liars.

I have come to believe over and over again that what is most important to me must be spoken, made verbal and shared, even at the risk of having it bruised or misunderstood.

We have been raised to fear the yes within ourselves, our deepest cravings.

For women, then, poetry is not a luxury. It is a vital necessity of our existence.