You are a rarity.
A gemstone that is not only precious but scarce.
You’ve been disgraced and beatdown so long
I doubt you know the difference.
Something is only precious when it is preferred.
But when a gemstone is rare
people search for it, and when they find it, they rejoice
for a rare gem is not easily available
for it, one must look.
There is no creation like you.
There is no body like yours.
No mind can conceive of the things you’ve seen
Even the ground is confused in the way that you walk
When you wake, the earth
quakes and shudders and the sun smiles
No instruction can map out the contents of your mind
You precious one.
You delicate rock.
You silk mountain.
Do not become small for those who refuse to climb.
Let the ordinary ones stay on the ground.
Let those who cannot swim stay on land.
Understand, you are a fist full of moon.
And those who cannot appreciate your light
must stay in the darkness.
There is no place for shadows
in the land of the living.
You are life.
You are womb.
Without you, the man was incomplete,
and without help.
You are not only golden
You are gold.
You are historic.
You are not only precious
You are rare.
Do you not know that your words declare to the world who you are?
I’m starting to understand more and more the power we have as individuals and how we so readily give this power away with the speed of thought. One of the reasons I happen to love words is for the power that they hold. When you speak your words begin to act upon what has been spoken, in other words they live. Poetry then becomes such an attractive art because it’s not just the reading and reciting of words, but it’s the emotion and exact senses that encompasses the words that are spoken. I sometimes find it hard to really judge poetry because it’s such a personal part of the poet and there are so many different kinds of styles and tones. But the kind of poetry I really fall for is the delicious kind, the tasty kind; the kind of poetry that speaks so personally to the reader / listener that we will believe that this poem was a gift specifically granted to us. When I read a poem about running I want to feel your heartbeat, I want your breath to brush upon my cheeks; I want my feet to ache from the unforgiving concrete of the ground. I want to feel you as if I invaded your body only to live in your existence for the remainder of the poem. I want to be one with you on that intimate level. If you possess power, when you speak then so should I. That’s the kind of poetry that inspires me, and I must say the kind of writing as well; the kind that possesses power. I always encourage new poets to make sure their delivery is superb. Writing is in many ways the easy part, but when you approach an audience make sure they can feel what you felt when you wrote that poem. Don’t tell me its poetry, just paint poetic justice against the backdrop of heavy keystrokes. Let me “bathe in the blank wake of your passion and be kissed by white paper” (Mark Strand). Far as general speech is concerned we have to learn to stop being so sensitive. Nothing others do or say is always about you. Whether that’s blogging, writing, posting, etc, when we stop worrying about how others see us we can then stop being the victims of needless suffering. The power of words always comes back to self and what self is willing and not willing to allow in his / her space. A lot of the negativity we walk around with is due our own making, it is simply made up of elements we allowed to come in. We are thus bearing the burden of self inflicted scars, but we should never let anyone dilute the power of our words. I’m realizing now that whenever we say that we “can’t” do something, we unconsciously weaken ourselves just a little bit more than we were just moments before. How much worse when we allow the words of others to do the same.