In honor of National Poetry Month I feel obligated to speak on the subject.
I’ve always struggled to find my voice. In my childhood it managed to get mangled, battered and then lost amongst a sea of other children’s. Since then I’ve always been the loud shy girl/woman, a walking oxymoron. I love people, I love talking, and I love talking to people, but when it came to personal opinions and matters I was conditioned to camouflage. I credit God with the miraculous emancipation of my voice and my confidence.
At a young age my solace was in my pen and crisp, crackling paper (soon turned keyboard & computer). Where I could never convince my peers that I had something worth hearing my notebook listened to me. I wasn’t judged for my weight nor was I discouraged by my appearance. Diving into the pools of my frustration I swam to refuge. And when I came up from the water… I could breathe.. For the first time in my life in the waves on my paper I could breathe.. And it was in elementary school that I fell in love with writing. I dabbled both in poetry and novels, but my true love was storytelling. Having been deprived of the right to participate in childhood fairy tales I eagerly took the opportunity to create my own world with the power of my wand.
My collegiate Junior year (2015) is when I joined a poetry organization on my campus- Word Up! It was here that I rediscovered my love affair with poetry for the first time in years. We, Word Up!, specialize in performing, writing workshops for all artists (poets, rappers, singers; you name it) and encourage the maturation of your writing style/skills, while offering advice and critiques. My voice grew stronger and developed voluptuously, filling every inch of the paper and caressing every ear that begged to listen. And for my very first time, I performed in front of dozens of gazing eyes, all beckoning me to give them a reason to lend their ears to me.
I did. And thus Profesz- to declare or speak boldly- was birthed. And also, was my mission to help other people, especially other women, find their lost voices.
I AM Poetry
Who am I?
Can anything so complex be defined
I take refuge in companionship with pen and pad
Desperately searching for a simple word to write in stone.
But nothing of such magnitude exists
Am I so difficult?
Then, yet again, I am Poetry.
As my words travel universes
Escaping mind to paper I can’t help but wonder why we are so similar
Scrolling each word, rhyme, and missing meter
This feels so real
An uncanny similarity
But isn’t it obvious?
I am Poetry.
Who’d thought that in this white sheet of paper I would find my reflection/
These words are more than visual aesthetic
Our kinship is sweeter than bliss itself
Yes. We are one!
And love or hate
This ink don’t fade.
I am who I am.
And I’m more than mere ink on a white sheet of paper.
I AM Poetry!