To Write:
Hemingway once said that to write
Is to bleed out
Onto the paper -
The ink in some metamorphosis
Into hot blood
Flowing out of the nib.
Red dashed
And splashed
Across the white
Like some kind of massacre.
But writing isn’t brutal.
There are no armies and the
Weapons are not always sharp.
Sharp words rounded with compassion
Blunted with understanding.
The blood is that of the characters
Whose hearts beat it around their chests -
Life is formed on the page,
Not ended on it always.
Yes, there is pain
But hope too. Hope too.
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