13 April 2010

I Know Poetry When I See It

by Jen Rose

I know poetry when I see it.
How it dances and sings and leaps
Across the page
How it shapes the white space
Breathing life into ink marks and wood pulp
Where there was once nothing
I know poetry when I see it
Where only the essence of a truth is compressed
In a line so small, but so full that
You read it over and over again
Just to know it by heart.
You write it down word for word
Letter for letter
Period for period
For wonder of what it felt
To write it.
I know poetry when I see it
Standing on my toes
Straining for a glimpse over
The shoulders of giants
Feeling small and speechless
In their presence
I feel the surge of words
Begging to be let out.
I hear them whispering in the notes of a song
Or the voice of a friend
Or a sudden epiphany
I doubt their worth and wonder if they matter,
And if they could mean anything
To anyone
But me.
But I write them
(or at least I try to)
Desiring to honor in the smallest way
The poetry I’ve seen.
Like a little girl
In her mother’s high heels
Five sizes too large.

1 comment:

Add a little caffeine to my life...