Powetree

I ate an early dinner yesterday evening and crawled into my bed to get a very late siesta. I grabbed a small notebook from the shelf along the way to try to read myself to sleep. The notebook was rather familiar to me. It was a collection of poetry I wrote from years ago which I intend to (hopefully) publish in the future.

Reading through the poems I wrote, I felt a little sad. They were very powerful, intense and passionate--as I was then. I wrote with angst, with vengeance for trespasses both real and imagined. I wrote with the blind conviction of a fanatic, blood and tears pouring from pen into parchment. I wrote like a victim. I wrote like a god.

I don't know which one made me more sad--having to read the anxiety and the drama that goes along with puberty and channeled into dark poetry or having to read sad but beautiful poetry written by my own hands realizing I will never get close to writing them again. I remember it was so easy to write then. I would lie in bed, with a pen and whatsoever paper I can get my hands on--tissue, scratch, receipts--and write. The outcomes were not great all the time, but I think they're rather good. Now, each time I managed to find the time and be inspired to write about something, I break. The words don't come as easily anymore. It seems my hands no longer remember how to write, my mind to imagine and my soul to empathize. Is it because I grew up and left all the angst behind me? Is it because requitted love is not as inspiring as an unrequitted one? Is it because I finally got to realize that poetry as an art eventually becomes obsolete when work and personal responsibilities eventually take the spotlight in someone's life?

As I write now, I remember the poetry I wrote and their words reverberated in my core. I guess we all do need something to get us through the day. I wrote them to get through mine. I think, it was wrong to feel sad reading through them. Moreover, I should've been proud. For those brief years, at least, I was able to write like a victim. And I wrote like a god.