Poetry can be a noble endeavor. The basis of it is to craft words that reflect our humanity; to meander through the language to find the perfect phrase to express an idea. To dedicate oneself to such an undertaking is indeed a valiant enterprise.

It is, however, not one that is greatly appreciated. Our society tends to swaddle such creative activities in airs of pretense and arrogance. Overall, we tend to believe that actions that don’t generate a buck are frivolous. Poetry, painting, and cloud-gazing generally don’t do much to increase one’s personal wealth – at least not instantly.

There is worth beyond the dollar. If something reflects our humanity back to us, is it not worthy?

I wrote bits of poetry in my younger years. It was full of teenage angst and fancifulness. The kinds of things you would expect from a young mind with raging moods and little knowledge of life but great expectations. It had worth if only to allow me to better understand myself and come closer to an understanding of my place in the world. Although these are still things I strain to comprehend, my creative activities uncover greater truths every day.

Allow yourself the time to fiddle with a turn of phrase or splash paint across a blank page. Such things are worth the time and effort. You never know, perhaps you’ll find something out about yourself that you weren’t aware of.

Keri lives and writes in Boyle Street.

Personal Weather

rain come down, wash me fair
bless my soul, leave me bare
wash away my sins, wash away my fear
wash away my body and leave me here

clouds come down and cover the sky
watch down upon me where I lie
cover me with warmth, cover me with heat
leave me here to struggle to my feet

wind blow hard and shake the trees
move me, sway me with all god sees
shake my body, shake my soul
then leave me alone and let me roll

sun come out and blind my eyes
burn away all of my lies
shine down and make me brave
and please let me know that I am saved.