You’re a poet and you didn’t even realize it


I’m no poet.

In the past, I have fretted over the fact that I am not a poet. How can someone who loves words and beauty and communication and emotions so much not have a poetic soul – a deep spring of sparkling and devastating words, words that cause others to pause and reflect and absorb? How will I ever write a good song if I am not a poet? For the life of me, I cannot write eloquently or metaphorically or artistically. I can only write simple, tongue-in-cheek, authentic accounts of what I know to be true – which, I suppose, can work in country music and, well, blogging.

But I appreciate when other people craft their words in a way that makes me stop and think, and to emerge on the other side with a certain familiarity with myself that I didn’t have before.

Today, I got an email from my friend Miranda. Miranda occasionally offers these zingers of sentences – words that stick to my ribs and cause me to return to the idea again and again.

This is what she said:
“When part of what is in your deepest fabric is silently remembered by what is in another’s deepest fabric, you are so much more at rest.”

What a beautiful idea: silent remembrance.

That is love.


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  1. Isaiah Kallman on March 14, 2008 at 3:26 PM

    I’ve always thought that poetry was like prayer. More for God and the writer, less for the reader. Nick Hornby says that poetry is like reference material of one’s soul. It’s like an encyclopedia of a person’s emotion, and when you want to understand a bit about what’s happening within them, read a poem of theirs. So your poetry, I’m sure, has value, even if you’re not Elizabeth Bishop.

  2. [not the] Best Blog Ever on March 15, 2008 at 12:09 PM

    You’re a poet and you didn’t even know…

  3. Annie Parsons on March 16, 2008 at 10:02 AM

    I prefer “realize it” over “know it.” The irony! Isn’t it ironic? Take that, Alanis.

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