The path of the Bard

'The sea doesn't want to make waves.
The wind doesn't want to blow.
Everything wants balance, peace,
and seeking peace has no peace.
If you understand this, does it
change something? Can you be peaceful
even where there is no peace?'

from Summers and Springs, Jaan Kaplinski

As a writer, I have a very poor relationship to poetry. This year, I have discovered this as a short coming. Not because tutors insist, and even recommend that when you write prose, you should be reading poetry; but because I've started to develop my own relationship with this language, English, in a way that every writer should. In the back of my mind, I guess there was always the awareness of how important language is to writers, but it wasn't until I had to chose to do my writing in English (long story, not to go into it now) that I realized this was a long term relationship.

Another little spark in my path to find poetry, was actually having to write one for my Writing and Health class. What started as a sand-under-the-skin activity, turned out to be the smack on the head I needed to reach out to a very big source of material for my writing, and also the theme of the poem, Home. 

Going through the process of writing poetry felt uncomfortable, to say the least. And I'm keeping that part of my writing private. But now I can see that I'm thirsty for poetry, not from a emo perspective - far from it, as this was the original reason I didn't want to get into it in the first place - but to see and make myself get used to another kind of writing. And most importantly, because of rhythm. I was acutely away, have always been - mom says my music teacher in kinder garden said I had 'a musical ear' - of rhythm, specially in playwrighting. Now I want to imprint all my pieces with as much rhythm as I can manage.

When I read poetry now, out loud to myself cause in silence it just feels weird, I find I was missing it, if that makes any sense. I remember my brother reading, this would be in Spanish back then, and enunciating, almost swaying with the rhythm of the language; and I remember myself thinking how well he did it, but how this wasn't for me. Now, without his talents for public speaking, I find myself trying to reach out to myself by reading out loud and remembering how he did it. Anyone up for a reading poetry session in the park?