Good morning. Welcome to poetry day on the blog. I’ve been sitting here for a couple of hours, not allowing myself to leave my writing nook, until I wrote a poem. I felt like a child, who in her defiance, did not want to eat her peas, but was being commanded to stay at the table until she ate all of her peas. The last few weeks, I’ve been dodging my own heart and my own deep feelings, by publishing other people’s poems on Soul Sundays instead of my own. Poetry gets to the feels and lately, it’s really hard to feel the gush of feels coming from everything that is happening around us, isn’t it? So, I finally “ate my peas” and my poem for today is below. It felt good and nourishing to write it. “My peas” added to my vitality. Add to your own vitality today, and write a poem. Stay at the table and eat your peas. You won’t regret it.
In times when we must face the barbarism that lies within all of us, in pure sight for all to see,
the poetry does not flow. The heart wants to stay in its safe room, pretending that it is safe.
It is the heart who writes the poetry, but the heart is numb, beating in its anesthetic of desentization, which finally arose from the overflowing, salty mix of blood and tears of despair.
Hearts can only hold so much pain, until they turn into hard, lifeless stones which makes them the hearts of monsters.
Monsters don’t write poetry. They coldy snuff it out with their hearts of stone.
We must give our hearts life. We must bravely let our hearts leave their safe rooms, to breathe in the fullness of life. We must never let the poetry die.
Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.