
A lot of people will tell you to journal in order to process your feelings. It’s a worthwhile pursuit. I believe in the power of the written word, no matter who is doing the writing. But journaling, for me, was never really the way I wanted to express the things that I was feeling. So I turned instead to writing poems.
Sometimes the poems are exactly what I want to say on the first draft. Sometimes they require revision. Sometimes they are so bland and ordinary that there is nothing worth revising. Sometimes they say nothing of consequence. Sometimes they say everything in just a few words. Sometimes they ramble.
I haven’t written many poems over the past ten years, but occasionally, poetry feels like the best way to process what I’m feeling. I find that when the dark parts of life come to roost, a poem can say what I need to say better than any other media. In a poem, I can be honest and authentic in ways that I can’t in an essay, an open letter, a short story or a journal entry. I can draw the reader (and myself) further into my pain through a poem. I can show my true self. I can use it to heal.
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A Sonnet For Mislaid Blame
I can’t unsee the ugliness he brought When, after a long silence had ensued, He placed his pains upon me, iron-wrought, As overturning stones, both old and new He—looking, looking, frantic, for a sign To label what he saw and did not like A sin (a grievous error, in his mind)— Laid blame before retreating…
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A Love Letter To Myself
When they go quiet I won’t think “What’s wrong with me?” Not anymore. I have wasted hours trying To figure that out Just to go back to the mirror After years of weariness have worn me to dust To find my reflection, with well-worn tear tracks, Staring back and whispering “You’re a beautiful creature. Not…
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Chips
I see you coming for it Your hand sneaking You think you are sly The way you tuck it gently Without a rustle Into my bag of delight. Just a taste, you think As the golden treasure is revealed And you put its salty goodness To your mouth. You think I didn’t see it And…
