Poetry. It speaks to me. The simplicity and the raw honesty. The words that are spoken from the heart and poured out onto a page.
Poetry. It can be so simple yet complex. It can be a language of love acceptance or equality. A voice of understanding.
Emily Dickinson once said, “Hope is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul - and sings the tunes without the words - and never stops at all.” A favorite quote of mine, that lets the essence of hope speaks for itself. Telling the story of how hope is ongoing and meant to strive on to the test of time.
In another of her works, Dickinson goes on to state “If I can stop one heart from breaking, I shall not live in vain…”. When I read poetry like this, and feel the raw honesty; I can’t help but be inspired by it. To think, what if we were brave enough to speak like this to one another? To let our kindness and compassion for others be completely shown? Often, we are held back by our hesitation to vulnerability. Poetry allows for these hesitations to be cast away.
Works like Dickinson, came from the time of transcendentalism and romanticism. Where there was more focus on the philosophies of life and spirituality. For me being able to write and read poetry that inspires me frees my soul. The act of seeing God in us, around us and through us, of seeing God in the mist, meaning His Spirit and the Nature of what He has built around us. How can I not write about it? Be inspired by it?
Or do we stand to yet again fall to what society has lain before us separate from the ideal understanding of our human intellect of love, God, individuality and the creativity of life.
For me, poetry can be seen in the dew upon the grass that God has grown just for us.
