I feel I can be more honest in poetry, because metaphor and fewer words use can hide and at the same time reveal so much more.

Prose on the other hand, unstructured, poured out, takes me by surprise when it makes sense of my inner journey. But it’s messy and confusing at times. And cluttered with words.

No matter the art form, we create, we pour out, we share. Because we need to. Even when it’s constantly interrupted. Even when it’s hard to carve out time and space and silence to create.