I don’t really know why
I do what or do or why
I put myself through this
One hundred day quest
To write poetry.
And even though
Some of it wasn’t my best,
I can say I put
Myself to the test
And passed and
A hundred poems can
Attest to that.
But you see,
This was something
I never thought I could do,
And when I said
“I write poetry”
I felt I had to prove
Something to myself
And to others because
I didn’t get a BA or Honours
In English or Literature
Or something relevant to this.
I worked my way from the bottom,
Primitively stringing as many
Words together as possible and
Aiming for the stars but
Preparing to miss.
But on the way down
I found some catharsis.
And a million different
Ways to play with words.
I found my life’s
Meaning and definition
In a thesaurus and dictionary
And found my voice
Through trial and error.
And now I can say
The things I want to say
The things I need to say
The things I didn’t know how to say
The things I didn’t know I wanted to say
In a way that let’s my
Incoherent and bipolar mind
Sound somewhat like it’s sane.
You and I have both found
Ourselves asking why I
Chose to go down this path.
I’ve asked myself this question
A hundred times in
A hundred ways and
I’ve arrived at
A hundred different answers
That twist and bend and
Find their way back to
This place.
This place where
I’ve not found myself but
I know I’m getting warmer.
This place where
I know I’m going to keep looking.
I know I’m around here somewhere.