I promised myself something. I started writing a long poem. I thought “When I’ve finished this poem I might know what to do.” I can’t finish the poem until some action has been taken. The poem is seven pages long and might be twelve to fifteen pages when it’s done.
Another promise to myself. That I would write out how I felt in plain language so that I might begin to accept it. I have been working denial like a surface that is to be figured.