The fear of poetry is an indication that we are cut off from our own reality.
Outrage and possibility are in all the poems we know.
What would happen if one woman told the truth about her life? The world would split open.
Not all things are blest, but the seeds of all things are blest.
I hear the singing of the lives of women. They clear mystery, the offering, and pride.
However confused the scene of our life appears, however torn we may be who now do face that scene, it can be faced, and we can go on to be whole.