We Hate Poetry Because We’re Afraid to Feel
I have written poetry since I can remember, and I have felt my feelings, deeply, even before that. The two have gone hand in hand my entire life. I never understood when someone says they hate poetry. For me, that would be like hating air.
But then I realized that people hate poetry because they’re afraid of feeling.
We love music even though it is poetry. We love music because the sound drowns at the words. We can hear the words, sing them — shout them — but we can avoid feeling them because that glorious melody does it for us. Crescendos mimic our intensity, the decrescendos calm us down. Harmonies veil the truths we wish to speak, but don’t know how. Music is simply poetry without the tune.
And as much as I love music, I love silence more. I love words the most. Poetry is perfect.
Poetry hides nothing. Everything is laid out in the words, bare and open, with nothing to cower behind. Whether reading or writing, the words are there to be heard, to release the emotion within. A letting go. An embrace. Asking a question, finding the answer.
People claim that poetry is too dense, too confusing, meaningless. But their heads are in the sand. Its message is clear, painfully so. More often than not, poetry rips away our rose-colored glasses, shines a spotlight, and blinds us so all we can see is the truth. Our truth.
I am working on a poetry manuscript at the moment. It’s part of what led me to write part one of anxiety toolbox last week, and this piece right now. As I’m rereading my own poetry, my heart is tightening, my eyes want to look away, and my body wants to run.
I’m re-facing monsters I’ve fought against. I’m re-feeling the hardest emotions that I’ve never been able to voice. The ones I could only scribble down and hide away so no one would see.
It’s time to face them. It’s time to read the words that speak my truth, to search for others when my own are still scrambled. Only by feeling the emotion, can we move beyond them.
What poetry are you reaching for today?
