Some of my writing has been pouring out of me in the form of poetry, even though I had never written poetry before. I don't know how this all got started, but all of a sudden, words jump out of my head with almost volcanic force and hop onto the keyboard and the result looks like poetry. This has been a scary and at the same time exciting thing for me. This last Sunday, I read a poem I had written to a group of writers, my friends. There was discussion of my poem after the reading. As I was carefully listening to the other poets and writers talk about my poem, taking notes on how to make it better, one of them whose opinion I really respect said: "That was a very devastating poem. It conveyed devastating thoughts and feelings." Heeh! I had conveyed "very devastating thoughts and feelings?!" I must have, for my kind and sensitive friend, a published author himself, wouldn't have said so if I hadn't! I thought I had just written about some memories and of some feelings, albeit sad feelings. I was actually amused until he said: "How do women do that? How can they be so kind and generous to men who have hurt them and why do women remember those men with love even after they have left them?" All of a sudden, I wasn't amused anymore. I was sad.