The Power of Poetry

An Unseen Expectant

The release of a breeze, push away my confidence’s disbelief. I envy the curious. I feel envy for a touch I did not receive, but if you never did, it would be envy that never was.

Feelings assert his presence, a touch that I’ve wanted to be…but wasn’t. Conflict would have subsided if the dust in my brain had not been so thick. I forgot the way home, but I won’t forget the way back again. What is a day anyway? An abstract concept like any other. A glimpse of the future that dissipates into this moment. A promise of more to come, a formula for happiness. But happiness is just the balance that separates from pain. An illusion, like any other. But why do we crave it so? Is it because we live in a world built for two and feel alone when we look around in our times of despair? The world would be worse if there weren’t so many people — so many tiny, nameless faces constantly being seen and forgotten.

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The world is not predictable. People are not predictable. None of us know what the next day will bring, nor does anybody know where we’ll end up at the end of it. Powerless for the time being, but never powerless when it comes to poetry. Poetry is the only way in this new reality that I find means to express myself: my feelings and reactions to what’s happening in front of me; my hidden thoughts only ever hinted at by a few words; everything else uncertain and nothing else certain except that I will never stop writing these thoughts down — right here on paper, right now. You might say that I’m living in a world of my imagination, with the only exception that it’s real.

The Power of Poetry is a mystery. Perhaps it’s not the power itself, but rather a sort of a hypnotic effect; we might call ‘poetry,’ something that can enter your mind and set up an internal state, which affects how you feel about the world.

Poetry provides a framework for each unnamed paradox.

A story inspired by Giovanni Rose, a talented young poet. Link below in tweet by Lesley Pickersgill.

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