“You choose to be a novelist, but you’re chosen to be a poet. This is a gift and it’s a tremendous responsibility. You have to be willing to give something terribly intimate and secret of yourself to the world and not care, because you have to believe that what you have to say is important enough.”
—May Sarton, Belgian-American poet, novelist, and memoirist (May 3 1912-1995)
Reading these words of May Sarton forces me to recall the many poems I wrote several years ago, during a very dark period of my life.