When Someone Shows You Who They Are,

We Write For The Same Reason That We Walk, Talk, Climb Mountains Or Swim The Oceans — Because We Can. We Have Some Impulse Within Us That Makes Us Want To Explain Ourselves To Other Human Beings. That’s Why We Paint, That’s Why We Dare To Love Someone- Because We Have The Impulse To Explain Who We Are. Not Just How Tall We Are, Or Thin… But Who We Are Internally… Perhaps Even Spiritually. There’s Something, Which Impels Us To Show Our Inner-souls. The More Courageous We Are, The More We Succeed In Explaining What We Know.

Each Of Us Needs To Withdraw From The Cares Which Will Not Withdraw From Us. We Need Hours Of Aimless Wandering Or Spates Of Time Sitting On Park Benches, Observing The Mysterious World Of Ants And The Canopy Of Treetops.

Poetry Gave Me Back My Voice.

Let Choice Whisper In Your Ear And Love Murmur In Your Heart. Be Ready. Here Comes Life.

I Never Had That Feeling That I Had To Carry The Weight Of Somebody's Ignorance Around With Me. And That Was True For Racists Who Wanted To Use The 'n' Word When Talking About Me Or About My People, Or The Stupidity Of People Who Really Wanted To Belittle Other Folks Because They Weren't Pretty Or They Weren't Rich Or They Weren't Clever.