When I set out to write this poetry book, I was really stuck on what it means to be "honest" in my writing. How much do we say in poems about our personal lives and how much is too much? What parts of the soul does one put on display? What parts stay hidden? How do we know which poems to share and which ones are for our diaries? Is there a purpose for what we share, or do we choose to do it selfishly for gratification? Why do we write poetry at all? Suddenly I found myself in the marshlands near where I spent my childhood summers. I listened to the birds, the frogs, the cicadas, the splash of fish. I wandered past the tall grass, got bit by mosquitoes, and let the water go up to my knees. I was afraid there might be crocodiles, but still I listened. Nature has so much to say if you choose to hear its songs, its chants, its cries. It is from nature that I learned that "truth" comes from all forms of life, and that we only need to speak on it to give it power. So that's what I did. I gave power to my experiences-both past and present, and so this collection was born. The marshes have something to say. I, too, have something to say, but only to those who will listen.