I do not believe that one sets out to write poetry by choice. I believe that poetry chooses the heart most able to withstand the highs and lows of life and can relive it all again by writing about it. Poetry is an art form that can take us deep into our own beings where love feels like crushed velvet petals and autumn sunsets painted in shades not found in crayon boxes. We can know what it feels like to swim in the ocean of someone else’s grief or climb, in tandem, to the pinnacle of their wildest dreams.

There are no limits to the emotions we feel when we dive into the carefully curated words of the person willing to share them with the world or, at least, with the hands who felt drawn to hold this book. This book, a miniscule sample of my life, my heart, my love that often gets derailed by the slightest distraction or pinch of self-doubt. But it is here, on these pages that I waded through my darkest nights just to find that I have never been alone; surrounded in fact by grace, compassion, and a love so steady it buckled my knees with the weight of my gratitude for it.

My story may not be your story and I hope that it’s not but I believe that we are all tied together with one common thread that says we will make the best of the life we have been given and we will be all the better for it. Love is the thread, how we express it is our life.