Sometimes my rawest, truest, most undefined self
Comes out in my poetry.
I was taught that I didn’t have to rhyme,
That my poems didn’t need to make sense,
That grammar and sequence could be replaced with feeling and emotion,
Enough feeling and emotion to make others feel something of their own.
So now all my poems are real,
Filled with words simple enough for a 3rd grader, but feelings that even I can’t explain,
And when I read poetry by other people,
I search for that sliver of feeling,
Try my hardest to connect to it.
I reach out and sometimes I get it,
Maybe just a brush, but it’s enough to make me laugh,
Cry, frown, scowl, grin and a whole bunch of other things besides.
It’s then I know that I’ve got the poetic connection.
Tasimba D. Saidi