Humility

As I read through the latest poems my fellow critique-group members have written, I am stunned by their skill and by the way they go straight to the living (sometimes bleeding, sometimes bloody) heart of the matter in their work. This is not to say that they are exploitative or gratuitous. They "earn" the powerful lines, as the saying goes. And they make it look easy.

What keeps me from doing the same on a more regular basis? It's not as though I don't have the material. But maybe there's a part of me that thinks that would be taking advantage of...well, of the advantages I have with what some might call a rich backstory. Maybe what I don't consider exploitative in others I would consider exploitative in myself. And maybe, too, I don't want that backstory to define me. I think I am torn between wanting to be a visionary poet and being a poet who writes personal history. As though it must be a question of either/or, when I know full well that many fantastic poets do both. Including the aforementioned colleagues.

Today's takeaway: you can be humbled by the work of others, but it doesn't mean you throw away your pen. Or keyboard, as the case may be.

Also: ponder less, write more.