the other day, while waiting for Easter Vigil mass to start, Elizabeth and i heard the sound of glass breaking. (not sure what broke exactly, most likely a chalice)
i did not expect her to begin reciting the scene as it unfolded '- the sound of glass shattering - the pieces flying everywhere' with gestures to illustrate. and it delighted my heart...
all poetic moments in everyday life delight me, likewise. to think that one of the most practical and down to earth friends of mine would suddenly show her poetic side ... it's amazing.
i have often believed that poetry is linked to an appreciation of beauty and the diversity of life's experiences, and the capacity for such appreciation is within each person's soul. it is only a matter of vocalising it, of putting it into words, and expressing it. in the end, poetry is less about making it rhyme, having perfect diction or producing a technically competent and sound poem. it is about expression, honest and true, and getting in touch with that same capacity i described earlier.
why is it that scenery moves us? what is in the mountains or the sea that makes us silent and filled with awe?
so write, express. don't be afraid, don't be doubtful that you cannot produce works of art like Shakespeare or Auden. for it is your voice that comes out, the imprint of your everyday life placed into words that will last into eternity.
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