Poetry served as my secret confidant.

In early innocent days, I assembled words like LEGO(R) blocks when my heart felt more than I could speak. On a rare occasion, I presented my poem to a crush, a grade-school girl unsure how to respond.

I felt the risk and sometimes the sting. So I returned to my mask, realizing most people weren't ready for honesty.

But in the quiet shadows, I didn't need to lie. Poetry became my portal.

POETRY. Art to admire? Or gibberish to ignore?

Poll social media and you'll soon locate lovers and haters.

For writers, poetry is both the safest medium and the scariest, all wrapped into one. We hide our hearts in plain sight. At the same time we bear our naked souls to the most casual passerby.

For readers, poetry is both the most polarizing and unifying medium. In one line, we rally around the messenger sent from the stars. In another, we take up weapons for the semi-charged words they dared to craft.

This is the paradox, the mystery, the wonder.