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.