More than I would admit I am
At a loss
Poetry, speaks the words I do not know.
Poetry knows the secrete passages
Past these fear-filled walls
Sneaks past the guards
Know the way to the heart.
A rebel that exposes what I want hidden
Feelings, stories, me.
Expose but protects
Reveal but explains nothing
Poetry is my heart teaching me how to speak.
I don’t know why poetry, but I know that I don’t have to know, words seem to have a way with my soul, I have no clue how God goes about creating a human, sure we are not ingredients chucked into a pot Powerpuff girls girl style, however, God goes about His work I imagine him with a needle and thread knitting us together, and all I know is that some of my fabric is words, poetry, it is story.
It has always been this way I was unaware of it as I say like breathing but now I am slowly realizing what a privilege it is to breathe, what a miracle air is and that it keeps us alive, the same with poetry, words seem to sit in my mind they collect and dance and a word whisper sentences, for me a word paints a thousand pictures, I don’t know why but I enjoy that it does.
Somewhere near the end of last year poetry become a bit of a task it became an “I have to” I was in a battle with myself my pen as my sword I swung violently, hoping to cut something out of myself cutting and cutting swinging and chopping, no sword should ever be used this way, and I felt like I came close to cut my thread, I walked away from poetry or so I thought, thinking that I am not much of a poet maybe I am a writer but not a poet, I clicked and sheathed my sword, walking away from myself, rejecting part of what I am made out of.
There is a saying that goes: the sharpest sword is the one in its sheath, (something in that line.)
This was true in my case when I did not use poetry to be a weapon or prove to people that I am doing something, using it as a way to seek validation from others when the pen was not a sword, I started filling pages in my books again and I did not immediately notice this, but it happened I started listing to more poetry reading and downloading apps with poetry collections and I was writing again in my hand was not a sword but my heart and how beautiful it was seeing it there beating alive, I was operating out of love, I just did because I love, words and poetry, movies and music inspired more and I realized that the thread can’t be cut because it was stitched by God and it is one of my golden threads.
I hope you discover your ingredients and enjoy them you are golden, enjoy who you are.
Thank you for reading
Peace and Love.