Dear Kirsten Hac, You may not believe this, but I relate to your poem, Why. And I'm thankful you wrote it, because it reminds me of the honesty we all need to get real in this world. I will tell you why you can't slach your wrist, why you can't go, just now: You have not been excused from the table. If you were to go now, by your own hand, you would break all the hearts of those that love you. I know this because I have been right where you are now.
We are given a child's wonder and awe, and the incessant curiousity to find out what is out there, what's in here. What turns with each page is so intriguing, how can we not stay and share it with a friend? Keep on writing and reading those wonderful ones who are around and have gone before. Find mentors, living or dead, who echo your own living voice, and then sing. Phillip
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Dear Kirsten Hac, You may not believe this, but I relate to your poem, Why. And I'm thankful you wrote it, because it reminds me of the honesty we all need to get real in this world. I will tell you why you can't slach your wrist, why you can't go, just now: You have not been excused from the table. If you were to go now, by your own hand, you would break all the hearts of those that love you. I know this because I have been right where you are now. We are given a child's wonder and awe, and the incessant curiousity to find out what is out there, what's in here. What turns with each page is so intriguing, how can we not stay and share it with a friend? Keep on writing and reading those wonderful ones who are around and have gone before. Find mentors, living or dead, who echo your own living voice, and then sing. Phillip