In English class, predictably,
The teacher told us patiently
About the forms of poetry
And how to write them well.
Entranced by artful imagery
I read them quite ecstatically
And wrote with great tenacity
The stories I could tell.
Yet rarely do I make my vision clear
Excepting times when it has been required.
When I have been artistically inspired,
Elation soon gives way to primal fear.
To make myself so vulnerable, so bare
To all who see my poems, even me--
This angst obscures what needs to be set free
To make myself and others more aware.
I am an artist
Scared by what I'll find within,
To me, poetry
Is self-discovery, and
A healing process.
In spite of insecurity
I know I must write poetry
To give my muse some agency
And make myself unwind.
They never come out easily,
These feelings harbored secretly
But I must write on, hopefully
To ease my troubled mind.