~Jenuine
I am the mother of my poetry
for each new poem is a labor of love
each one is conceived
and woven together
in the womb of my soul
each one flutters and kicks inside me
dancing into being
and when
each one is pushed forth into life
there is pain
there is rending
there is a grueling labor
and then
there is
joy
sweet
ecstatic
euphoric
bliss
and wonder–
the kind that lets hours escape
while you gaze upon that
which is made up of the very pieces of you
the kind that makes you weep at what beauty
can come out of such a dark place inside of you
and is brought to life through such pain
the kind that erupts in irrepressible smile
out of the blue to daydream how
this new creation will move through the world–
I love my poetry
with a conviction I cannot comprehend
with a loyalty I cannot name
with a tenderness I cannot explain
other than:
I am the mother of my poetry.
