“It never even existed” well felt that and I am pretty sure a lot of people do… Really good piece.

When i first wrote this, it was from her perspective. Listening to her talk about it and how she felt about it. It wasn’t until later that I had reason to relate to it as she did. She never saw the poem or heard the song until recently because I didn’t want to scratch the wound. But she’s heard it now. Thank you, Brenda 🧡

My daughter only heard it today and has announced that I should be the official lyricist of her life. It’s finally been long enough that the pain isn’t as fresh, so I let her hear it for the first time. That “chorus” was a recent addition…written from fresh understanding of my own. Thank you, my friend

My daughter is an amazing woman…just not his amazing. And that’s not his loss or hers. She gained a lot of sense of self from the experience and is a stronger person than she was then. Like her mother, she’s a giver. And that usually involves giving too much leeway and too many chances. Hope dies slowly, I guess. Thank you, Honoria

Powerful work. Tremendous writing.

There is a fire of honesty and feeling here.
This stood out:
“it’s not how you held me…

it’s what you held back…”

Great work
Regards
James

Hi Willow!
The poem is great but with the added song, it sounds so smooth. Like velvet.
Just awesome!

I hope I get to see this bonfire because she came back with a burner. Your words are powerful, very nice piece

Holding our words always backfires. Anger has so much power. It can be overwhelming.
I totally get this write.

Thank you

For some reason, I picture us sitting around that fire singing We Will Rock You by Queen. No Kumbaya or Row Row Row Your Boat. Kick it up with some fierce fight songs,I say. I’ll grab Wet Ones for the gooey fingers we’re bound to get from the marshmallows. Thank you, my friend

When they’re ready, they’ll come. I’m just biding my time and building energy…for now. Thank you

I actually have a number of creative outlets, though painting has proven to not be among my talents. But when the muse stops speaking, they all go dormant at once. It will come in its time. If you’re saying I should stop writing, that’s not likely to happen. 😂 Thank you

YES!!! Not only is Willow back, she comes with FIRE!!! Isn’t that usually the case with real poets, there are too many words, too much emotion and we cannot hold them back even if we try. They demand to be spoken, written on parchment, sung to the universe. These words are like lava, burning as they go, scorching the earth with an anger born of seeing, feeling, too much pain. Or at times seeing and feeling a shared connection with a fellow traveler while holding hands. And, we take these too many words and shape our world, influence those around us and make the world colorful.

Speak Willow, Speak!!!
-Curt

That storm in your skull feels real—too many words clawing for daylight while you’re just trying to breathe.
But I like the stubborn fire in you, using the anger as fuel instead of letting it burn the whole house down.