What makes up the heart of a poet?
August 2, 2009
Here are some of my thoughts, I’d love to hear yours.
A propensity to see, hear and feel. And then find the twist of a phrase that lands in perfect time. Or imperfect time if need be.
Really hearing the innocent laugh and giggle of a child.
Seeing the real grown up pain of real loss.
Listening to that nagging assurance that this will not be forever.
And for me, the known meaninglessness of legacy in the scope of eternity, but the drive to achieve it, to some degree, none the less. Knowing that those that went before me left some meaning for me, in their words and songs, maybe I can leave some for others.
It works like this… Walking outside after work to a sky that is almost all a vivid orange/red, while you know that your lyrics have been passed to the Mike Dodson (bass player of David Crowder Band) kicks off “I got hope, I got hope, the sky’s on fire, but I got hope”. Which quickly evolves as you realize that your hope that we have if we are in Christ Jesus is far greater then the music, or any opportunity, here in this life.
Or, driving in the early morning with dark threatening clouds in your rear-view mirror generates 4 little words. “Runnin’ from the rain”. Not the rain in the rear-view, but the allegorical rain, that comes with the storms of life. Large or small, Spectacular or mundane, and the need for shelter from it all. And where we can find it.
And it goes on and on. How long does it take to get the heart of a poet? I don’t know, was I born with it? Did it develop over time? If it’s real (and it sure feels real) why didn’t I listen to it more, and sooner? Was I waiting? For what? To feel complete, capable, assured? Maybe after 40 something years it is ripe and ready for the picking.
