Kiwi, Thank you for your kind posting last August. I have suffered rejection lately from the now literature elite. In the most part because I just hate it when the literary surgeons come out to amputate my metaphors. Too often its not what they can give, it's what they want to remove. Even at the price of success, I chose not to be sculptured into an Ivy league poet. This is such a difficult burden to carry. Fifteen years ago, I was climbing the ladder of success. And I was going to make it. And when I passed the middle point of that ladder and looked towards the top of it, I could almost see clouds moving and a second ladder. However on the bottom of that ladder were my children, left in an abusive situation with their alter parent. My kids were held hostage and the building was on fire. I felt as if I was five feet below a Pulitzer and thirty feet above them. I had to crawl back down that ladder, into the fire to rescue them. I left the stages, the newspapers and the cameras behind. I spent every cent I had to heal them. I have been mothering and fathering them for the last ten years. The money I once had is no more. Today I only have the vision. I don't even know if I will see that ol' ladder again or if I have the same climbing strength. But my children are healing, well and strong. I performed over two-hundred live shows in those early years. There was a lot of fan fare. I had no parents. No grandparents. I was disconnected from the few brothers and sisters that I had. So much to face alone- Never a family member at any show. I had a marriage that would make JOB feel sympathy for me. Letters, newspaper clippings tell me what could have been. The smiles of my children tell me what is. Discovering TNBW was a huge beacon of light. There are so many great writers on this site. Thank you KIWI for all the concerns that you have expressed. In a few years, my oldest daughter will go to college. She likes to write. I wouldn't even trade a Pulitzer for what would have been had I not gone down that ladder to save she and her sisters and brothers. Now I too am seeking to be healed from a war that has lasted two decades. One of my strangest archives that I possess is a three page hand written letter from Gwen Brooks, who won a Pulitzer prize. In a long handwritten letter she warned me about the burden of writing. She told me I had plenty of time to become a great writer and that when I reached eighty I would understand what she meant. She has forty honorary doctorates. Maybe one day it will make sense. I wish you Kiwi and all others reading this poem a Happy Holidays. Thank you all for a second chance to write. You are all All Stars to me.