Poet Identity

Poet Identity In conversations, In biographies, In resumes…all poets are writers, but not all writers are poets. On a careful look into the mirror, when not looking for wrinkles, but staring deep into the reflected Image as if it were a stranger’s face, And the stranger might hold “those” secrets, the secrets of life Unknown to us… Might identity be seen in the vibrant iris? Colorful…. the place of treasured revealing, thought a doorway to the identity, But an individual… A poet, a poet truly, Perhaps from birth, As willed, as created, as endowed, born perhaps with some more easily noted characteristics like having brown eyes; good arches for ballet; an aptitude for languages; a heart filled with compassion; and a lovely singing voice. Such traits contribute to the identity of a Poet, too, but especially, a poet will have a prevalent Ache — from needing to communicate the messages, visions, memories, feelings, witticisms, stories, and more. The poets write, speak, sing, compose Holding a “child’s “senses of wonder and delight” — which may puzzle or annoy others; Holding a drive to answer that distinct calling of the Inner Voice; Holding the soul, the seeking and touching God, The awe-worthy source of Creating — ideal to many poets, living so close to definitions, perceptions, feelings, and seeing underlying currents; Holding a respect and fascination for words, their combining, their potential, their rhythms, their music; Holding the history of poetry, to continue on from past generations: with the drive for self- expression, as if writing those poems of excellence Will place our handprints on a Lascaux cave wall beside our Paleolithic cousins; Holding a bond with trees, flowers, seas, the moon and stars (the dear stars!), in identifying with and loving Nature; Holding the All as precious, with an exchange of cues of illumination in a dance with the collective sub-conscious; Holding the presence and mysteries of inspiration, and purpose, as might be seen in a corollary drawn between poets and bees. The bee who pollinates the apple tree then returns to the colony to further the process of making honey, which helps to feed the world. As poets work to communicate With readers and listeners, Their translations of life in the penning and speaking, reaching, Singing abroad the Inner Voice To the community, then To venture forth to the still thirsty, still hoping for a word, Gatherings in the wider, open Regions of a blessed humanity, Working one to all over an Earth being restored…people Standing joyful before the heavens Aiming for accomplishing goals of hoped-for excellence, Of which coming generations of poets will speak. ——————————————————————- (c)sally young eslinger 12/22 Thanks be to God