A Writer's Notebook, Day Seven-Hundred-And-Sixty-Two

 I have been quite busy writing today, even more so than most of the days in the past week or so, and I feel good about a lot of the work that I am doing.  It seems to me that I am not only writing with a greater sense of care and attention, but that I am finding ways to confront things that are difficult to write about, and to present ideas I never felt comfortable putting into a poem before.  Some of this is political, and some is personal, and some is both.  I don't know that I am yet finding the things that are most important, yet, and I would like to find ways to do work that is equally significant to me but with more joy.  In part, this is a response to the world at the moment, but that is not an excuse, and it may well be that the darkness I am seeing is a call for me to find beauty I am missing, to find what I can appreciate and praise in the world, even now.  It is significant to be able to tell truth, and the truths people want to hear may also be what they need in times like this, often as much as those that they wish to ignore, and, of course, we need them most at those times when they seem to have become obscured.

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