We Seek Our Kind

why poets seek other poets

We Seek Our Kind

for J

I read your words, friend, and truly know,
   from the resonance of something interior and the cadence
of images that you understand what it means to live
   with the fear of the dark always under your skin:
that one day, despair may corner you at your own
   personal Appomatox. Surrender- divided self- to madness.
 
Cynics- those who misconstrue value as dollars and sense-
    tell us to not read too much into another’s work,
things are not always what they seem. You cannot judge sincerity.
   Oh really? I wonder, because it was so easy with you
to slip into your mind, and take that whirlwind penny tour

with you, through redemption and hope and dancing on the wind
   but also into the quiescent place where your sensitive heart
seems to possibly never have quite healed from the wounds
  an unjust world inflicted upon you and yours. I teeter on the brink-
so easy to fall. Your words- like windows inside that even eyes can hide.

To the cynics I proclaim, loudly, in thunderous voice:
  You obviously know not the value of catharsis, the necessity
To document what you see even as you wish you could walk away
   shield your vision, or otherwise disappear from the poetry of life.
We know- we seek our kind- because, from early age, we heard,

“I just do not get what you mean” and “ Why can’t you speak clearly?”
      and we hold the language of the universe in our hearts, but our mates
say, “so what?” when we describe the sunset over the mountain in perfection,
   or spend days contemplating coyote howls in the wilderness, or
 document in written flesh the pain of losing a child, our Selves the thing we lost

precariously along the way, seeking what everyone seeks:
   simply to understand, and be understood, for what good is the language
of the heart if there is none to share it? An audience is great, but
   when all is said and done, at the end of the night, the bed is cold
with a partner who cannot reach inside and feel your soul.

We find each other to warm us on those nights- it’s only the most natural,
   logical, and for me, easiest, thing in the world to do; to reach out
and offer what’s inside to one  like you- who can accept this gift,
    and give it back to me in another form, altered in fascinating ways
by its stay within your creative cortex and neuronal input.
  That is why we seek our kind- for no other reason than to simply

feel some of that humanity slip under our skin when all else
   is madness, and the world spins out of control. I could very easily
I think fall completely for one such as you. You just do understand.

  and I do not fear the unspoken truth- that the deeper one delves

into darkness of words, the closer to the heart one must be to living

  the Hell, and transcribing a real vision, not one imagined by eyes that

 

have not seen. For that understanding- I could risk the fact you may

              indeed be drawing your sketches from real life.

                      Let the cynics enter at their own risk.


 

Author's Note

I started pondering why it is so easy for poets to fall for other poets... even with the danger that their gifts of insight often come with a very heavy price on the spirit and sanity, and sometimes the world is not what it seems.

Reviews

[cest la vie]

Damn girl,
(oops repeated Jamie below on openers) How did you manage to encapsulate the poets quest so eloquently. I do not consider myself a poet, merely a thought scribbler. Yet it seems we (poets, authors, ink spillers) have reached that interior place of emotion some others either are afraid to enter or can't find the door. Like attracts like.. So insanity, sanity, no-man's land who's to say why and how. Just we do. This is absolutely a pivotal piece for me. So thought provoking, written with depth, questions to ponder. I love a write that makes me take another look. This is one such write.

[Marie Anzalone]

you are another one, dear Lynne, that I miss so very much. Your words always brought such warmth and light into dark places. Remember when me and you and Lonestar and Rainman planned a cross-country trip that fell apart at the last minute? How often have I imagined in my mind that we took it, anyway. That LS found peace, that RM remembered how to laugh and let go. That you and I just snuck away for ice cream, because, well, boys are just plain bizarre. I need someone dark enough to get me, still... but also in love with life enough to be willing to live it with me. I seemed to have missed that part, before. But... you knew that, because you tried to rescue as many as I did. Lord, it hurts to recall some things. Part of me will always walk that beach in Maine with the three of you, wondering, "what if...?"

[Jibey]

This is indeed a very special place of connection, where souls may embrace away from the cold bed... A fine piece of reflective verse

[Cool Handless Luke]

Good stuff! I'll review it in depth when I get more time.

[Jamie S.]

Damn girl...this is deeeep. You really made me think(and look up a few words,lol) I love it, I come across so many emotions that I sometimes absorb when Im reading other poets work. I cant imagine falling for another poet and paying that heavy price. You really hit the nail on the head with this one. Great piece of writing!