5/19/22
I started writing poetry out of frustration; out of distance and the hurt a heart can feel when one that you love (could be anyone; mother, friend, lover, spouse) just doesn’t seem to get it sometimes. You know that feeling, right? Sad, pining always comes first. Then, maybe, love later. But the middle? The middle is so frustrating. And the whole thing is the heart.
Sound and ground are words that resonate with more my body; my soul always hears and feels them and often words are not enough. Articulating the soulful is hard for me, intangible almost. Especially the best of feelings- joy. What kind of person finds it hard to write about joy? Joy, I love you and I strive for you. Maybe I’ll be good to you someday.
As a selectively expressive person, representing my heart, my body, and my soul is only best executed through poetry. As pretentious as it sounds, and I promise I’m not, I quote myself: “maybe they won’t mean anything to you, but they mean everything to me” (heart. sound. ground. 2022).