In the depth of me is poetry…
Fighting its way to be written, to be spoken, to be heard.
Fighting its way through emotions – some recognized, some not.
Fighting to find words to express senses and feelings not always acknowledged.
Fighting to find words to express images that are seldom clear.
Fighting to put words in a format that feels right – that fits the definition of “poetry.”
How does one get to those emotions and senses and feelings, those unclear images?
How does one recognize and acknowledge what one cannot understand?
How does one put words to images when one thinks in words, not images?
How does one discover one’s own true voice?
In the depth of me is poetry struggling to get out.
If the poems don’t come out, am I still a poet?