A need to bleed.

We are the animals in the circus, the gladiators in the arena.
We cut ourselves open, and they applaud.
We bleed, and they throw coins.

Every act of creation calls for blood.

The bringing forth of what has been growing within us.
The birthing only possible with pain.
The need to hear an appreciate voice cry out,  
It’s a boy! It’s a girl! It’s a poem, a story, a song!

We who create have a need to bleed, and a need to let the world watch.

Some of us bleed through pens and pencils, some through colour and clay.
Some through texture, or numbers, or with wood, leather and string.
Some of us, our voices bleed, or our arms and legs as they move
through space. Mothers bleed, and some never stop bleeding.

We who create, bleed, and all blood flow starts from the heart.