I happened upon some old poetry that I wrote the other night. I was astonished at the effect it had on me.
Writing brings to life what is going on inside of me. Something physical happens when I write a poem. Sometimes a weight is lifted off of my shoulders. More often than not, there is a burden that comes with the words on paper. I don’t write these things for myself. They are written to raise awareness of a cause. They are written with a person in mind. My words are refined and raw at the same time…like a controlled dance between a pen, paper and my brain. The words take on a life of their own.
Reading the words, even 5 years after they are written, takes me to the moment the poetry was penned. I can see the sights, smell the smells, hear the sounds.
I have some poetry simmering right below the surface. I can hear the beginning of one. I don’t know if it’ll be for public consumption…
