This time I had a poem published in an anthology, Bear the Pall: Stories and Poems About the Loss of a Parent.
I was actually published a couple months ago but I’ve been keeping it on the down low. The poem I wrote, Hate, was never meant to see the light of day. The pain I divulged and the turbulence I expected it to created kept me from talking about it at all. But the reception was amazing. The editor has been very supportive, the other authors have been fantastic, and of course, everyone’s contributions have been incredibly heartfelt and touching.
And, frankly, reception from friends and family has been more positive than I expected. It’s rare that my heart is knee deep in my stories. So having a poem that had nothing but me in it and the possibility of losing friends when they saw the monster I hide from the world, and the possibility of family reading it and seeing me for the dick I am, I expected the worst.
So buy a copy. Read my poem. Read others’ contributions. They’re all amazing. Have a box of tissues at the ready.