~ Poet's Note ~

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Even though this book has sat dormant, untouched, for probably well over a year... I am still incredibly sad to let it go.

Dear Hurting, From Healing may not be the best poetry book ever written, nor is it even my best work. These poems, however, are the very first ones I ever wrote, so no matter what, they will always hold a special place in my heart. And, when I re-read them, I will always smile. Because, every thought and feeling, all the passion behind the words, those were real to me then, and they're still real to me now. That will never change.

It can be easy to make writing solely about 'talent' and presentation and flair, all very wonderful things, but it's even more important that we continue to ask ourselves: why do we write?

Let's not allow ourselves to become so consumed by votes and comments and reads and awards and honors that we forget why we started in the first place. I am more than guilty of this myself.

I almost deleted and completely rewrote this entire book, as you may remember from my intro note. I was so ashamed of the poems I wrote here. I thought they were awful. I did. That's what they were in my mind. I thought I needed to only put my very best foot forward or people would judge me and my abilities incorrectly, that I would ruin my chances of fulfilling my dreams.

Just think, I could have lost all of this memory, all of this beauty, all of this heart captured on the pages, the meaning, the purpose... for a reputation. I'm ashamed of myself for that.

I don't know why you write, and sometimes, I wonder why I write, but I do know this.

I don't want to write for fame. I don't want to write for comments or votes. I don't want to write to be read. I want to write to write. I want to write to feel. I want to tell a story. I want to paint the picture of an emotion, a thought, a feeling, a place. I want to bring magic to life. That's what writing means to me. That's what this book was meant to be about in the first place. That's what it still is.

No one can take away the meaning behind your words, the heart buried inside them. That will always be your greatest power as a writer. People can critique and criticize and shame you and your work all they want, but what you felt and what you made other people feel will always be real. And that is where the true beauty in writing lies. It's not in the metaphors and imagery and alliterations. It's not in the words themselves. It's in the meaning. The meaning tells the story. The meaning comes from you.

Even if it's for one person, one heart, one hurting soul, one life in desperate need of healing, I'll write. That will be enough. I so enjoyed helping people that I created this book with the purpose of doing just that. These are letters, from me to you, wherever you are, however you feel. I can't take away your pain, but let me try to remind you why life is worth living, why dreams are worth dreaming, why love is worth pursuing. Because, I've been there. Oftentimes, I am still there. It's not Dear Hurting, From Healed. It's Dear Hurting, From Healing. We're all still on our way together.

I'm not so very old, but I've seen, experienced, lived quite a lot. People tell me I have a way with words, and the more I've wrote poetry, the better I've gotten at it, from one book to another, the more words have begun to come alive for me. I love writing, with everything in me, and I firmly believe that it is what I'm called to do. So I seek to do something with it.

This book started something that's changed my life, that's changed me. Maybe that's why, coming up on a year later, I'm writing this note, coming back to it, to tie the bow on a gift that I can only hope has blessed others as much as it has blessed me. It's a bittersweet ending. I never like change, but I love new beginnings and the chance to move on to something new.

You haven't seen the last of my poetry. You haven't seen the last of me. And you haven't read the last of what I have to say to the world, about the world, for the world.

This world can be a very dark place, a painful place, full of hurt and fear and suffering. I would give a great deal in order to have the power to fix it all, but that is not a power I can possess. However, I will never stop trying, with my pen and my page, to do what little I can to make a difference, to leave an impact, to touch a heart, and to spark a fire that could maybe, just maybe, run wild.

To the hurting, from the healing–

We have nothing if not the willingness to try.

<3 Rea

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