
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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May Butter Salve
We found a family recipe, folded away in the same box as Mince Meat, and German Cherry Soup, and Creole Kisses But this one was not like the others. It was an artifact A testament to just how long ago 100 years is for the modern family. How much is 2 cents of rosen, and where…
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You’re Still Here
You’re still here. I can see you Standing in my backyard with your coffee cup Walking across the patio, pausing to pet the dog Tool bag in tow perhaps Or carrying a slab of meat you got on sale Coming in the back door Without ever being offered that option Because that’s the way that…
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On The Day He Was Dying
On the day he was dying I was in a room full of singers who knew something was wrong But were singing anyway Because there was nothing else that any of us could do Except to carry on. Isn’t that how he would have wanted it? And after I had finished singing about the Christ…
