My private life

This one’s for you

I’ve sent a few

To a few of my friends

Over the last

Few days

And I haven’t shared

What I’ve written

Here

There’s a reason

And in the right season

I’ll share

The scare

Maybe

But I am okay

Well on my way

(I think

I hope

I pray

Everyday)

Anywho

Just thinking about you

And missing our conversations

About funny ditties

Or ditties that made you cry

Or ones that

Let’s be honest

We’re mediocre

But made it out to the world

Anyway!

There is no failure

In trying

I don’t think.

Trying

And beginning

Is the hardest step.

But back to my first thought

About sharing

And art.

Art isn’t art

Only because it’s public

Art can be art

In private

In a conversation

Or in your basement

(A pastor once told my mom

You’re a Christian if you pray in church

Or if you pray in a garage

It doesn’t matter to God)

As long as you’re an artist

And trying

Beginning

Everyday

There is no pressure

To overshare

What you want

To hold private

And sometimes

I think a lot of times

What you hold private

Is sacred

And more valuable

In my case

Yes

I think often

This is true

I wonder

What Picasso

Kept in his troves

Or what Gaudi built

In the sand on the beach

Or a poem

Mary Oliver

Wrote down

On a walk through the forest

To give to her dear friend

Without a desire to publish

Art from the heart

Imagining the art

That was never seen

May possibly

Be more valuable

More private

More intimate

Than the work

That we can see

And touch

And hear.

My son’s teacher

Says he has a huge imagination

It’s a strength of his

And I wonder

Why do we lose this

And filter our imaginations

Like loose tea

Through a strainer?

Though the tea is our treat

It was because

Of the herbs

We never see.