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Ode to myself as a poet

29 line poem

This is a patchwork poem comprised solely of my writing from the last year. It is a reminder of how much I treasure my craft, a keepsake of whom I have been as a poet, and a reassurance that I will continue to grow into myself as time passes.

I am here. I am everything

I have not yet forgotten and

maybe that which I already have.

I have stolen a stranger’s name; I

find myself on accident most days.

 

I long to be a poet. Electricity passes

by like crackling constellations

and, unceremonious,

I didn’t hear the tree fall.

 

Maybe it didn’t mean anything;

maybe they were one and the same.

 

I have already written a poem

about this. Tell me who I am

between           the           lines.

Lost time haunts and I can’t speak.

 

I wish I was brave. I will

search, in fear and powerful

defiance, for more than

what is in front of me.

 

Give me growth. There are so

many stories at the end of the

universe. I just want it to be true.

There’s time left to wonder.

I will become the namesake.

Photo by EKATERINA BOLOVTSOVA from Pexels

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