Snapshot
If you can take a snapshot of my life
In time
You will capture only
My blurry lines.
Because I am poetry
The flame behind the words.
Made of joys and sorrows and hefty thoughts
Forgotten scars and questioning awe
Secret shames and secret fears and secret love.
Because here I am—
Sullen moods and endless strife and sharp remarks.
And if you can take
A snapshot of my life – this time—
You’ll find
That I’m alive.
Because I’m poetry
Sometimes with enjambed
Lines
but always flowing on –
And on—and on.