It's so interesting to go back and re-read your own poems. For some, I know without even thinking what it is that inspired them. And then some of them were clearly (to me) written in times of great internal distress...and yet I have absolutely no idea what they're about. Kind of puts things in perspective!..
I decided to finally put them in one public place - not all of them, but the last few years' worth of finished poems, anyway.
It's been a long while since I've written any. Or written anything at all, for that matter. Not sure why that is, although I suspect it's because my life has been pretty darn good for the past half year or so. Not much apparent need for catharsis, you know.
Of course, if the past month or so is any indication, that may change soon, but that's okay; I enjoy writing and have long since accepted that my (and, probably most people's) inclination and inspiration to write almost always comes from a source of irritation (or worse).
* * *
A couple weeks ago I had the privilege of visiting my dear friend and former pastor and had a fascinating and basically life-changing conversation with him (which somehow always seems to happen when I get to really talk with him). Which I'll probably write about later. Anyway, at one point in our conversation, he recalled a friend telling him, "You are a poet."
To which he replied, "Well, I feel too damn disturbed to be of any use to anybody!"
To which his friend replied, "I've never met a poet who wasn't disturbed!"
Annnd I think that's just fine. Don't believe I could have put it better myself.
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