What It Means to be a Poet
Location
To be a poet
Is to be brought through misery,
Is to see the beauty
In the littlest things,
The most broken of souls,
The most fragile of hearts,
The most practiced of smiles;
To find the light
In the most infinite voids,
To spread the warmth
Through almost dead finger tips
Even when it barely flickers
Through ones own core,
To find a reason to smile
And hum to the tune of paradise
Even if paradise
Only exist in beautiful dreams
While the body rests
On the cold ground of despair;
To shed tears that fall as steadily
As the rain drops
From the leaky ceiling
Of a broken home
Where rising voices
Of a family
That was built out of love
Cry out for help
As the hate in their words
And the fury in their fists
Tear them apart slowly
And wake the little ones
Who sleep uneasily
In the next room;
To hide in dark corners
And weep silently
So as not to be found
By the one driven to madness
By the liquor
That washed away reality
And left a monster
With stale breath
And slurred words;
To stand strong, hand in hand
With the ones we love
Even after the dark army
Of the wicked and the damned
Have tried to breach our walls
With their guns loaded with lies
Shooting us all
One after another to watch us fall
And laugh at the ones
Who won’t stand again;
To write sweet sonnets
And seductive words of pleasure
To the ones
We’ll hand our hearts
And our innocence over to
Just before, with shaky hands
And swollen eyes
We write our tragedies
As we pick up the pieces
Of the broken trust
That they left of us with;
And to each their own
We tell the world our stories
Whether we come from wealth
Or poverty,
Loving arms
Or undeserved beatings,
Gentle kisses
Or violently stolen purity,
Good health
Or lethal sickness,
New shiny shoes
Or worn down soles,
We are the ones
Who write the truths
That are locked away
Behind heavy doors
And guarded vaults;
And when all is said and done
We struggle
With a creeping doubt
Of what if our words
Are not good enough.
And out faith is lost
In the message
We feel we have failed to tell,
But if we hold on
To the last bit of hope we can find
And listen to the ones
Who help us keep going,
We prevail in our darkest of times
And show the world our gifts.
And to live this life
Through spoken words
Of difficult pasts
We prove to be courageous
And show the world
What exactly it means
To be a poet.
08-08-14
poeticallycelestial(Chloé Celeste Scott)