Certain Poems Need To Be Released From Their Cages

I stopped what I was doing. I got very still, and I breathed like I do when I hear noise outside my room at night. I listened to my poem. It told me to stop expecting, stop thinking and just be there for it. I quickly squeezed one out. I wanted to be a chef and feed my friends a poem. No. That wasn’t it. The poem peeked out at me again and said I want to say to you what the wind says to you and what the warm breezes say. Now, listen. I stopped to listen. I took from my book of seeds and crumbs. I wanted to share a story like the stories that begin with, “Yesterday, I…”, or “I heard this…”, or “Can you imagine…”. I stopped chasing the poems. I let the poem catch me. The poem may hold you for a moment, then let you go, or it may become part of you -- and you are one. Title quote-attributed to Robt. Bly