First, though, I want to reflect on why participating in Teachers Write is important to me. As an English Language Arts teacher, I am constantly modelling writing for my students. There isn't an assignment I have given where I haven't created an exemplar myself to offer them. Especially during our unit on slam poetry, I push my students to write bravely and personally - to use writing as a way to connect deeply with others. To show my genuine interest in their brave personal writing, I share my poetry, hoping to demonstrate the power of being vulnerable on the page. Teachers Write is a way for me to practice that vulnerability and also a way to hone my own writing craft so as to better teach my students.
Our hearts open to things that we find beautiful. In so many works of fiction the conflict is messy and painful and wrenching - but there's beauty there as well. As a writer of poetry, primarily, I find I am often drawn to the messy, painful, and heart-wrenching moments in life. But, as Jo Knowles suggests, I also identify with the beauty of those messy moments.
One of the prominent themes in my poetry is mental illness. And while I write often about the disorienting feeling of swimming in a parka, I also write about the all encompassing beauty that comes with choosing survival. There is darkness in this world, but at once so much light, the light of choice and the glorious stark-naked beauty of silence in a thrumming world.
On Kate's blog today, she suggests ways to delve into place descriptions and invite readers to come, too. A recent poem of mine fits both the theme of finding beauty, and Kate's suggestion on hunting for interesting details that make a place memorable. Here's my revised poem, A Moment of Bravery.
A Moment of Bravery
an empty park bench
frozen tree-framed view of the river
my first day outside in months
iron fence posts offer stark black contrast to the bleached grasses
a plastic bag shivers and snaps against the fence
green paint peels thin off the cold wood seat
I wiggle my toes - tentative - sockless in my winter boots
below the song of traffic hum and dripping snowmelt
my heart beats legato
the sun like a gleaming penny reflects off snowbanks
filling my mouth with the taste of copper
and blinding me
so I sit eyes closed
my lungs stretching open like butterfly wings
the cocoon of my ribs straining
I lean into Spring with my whole being
choosing in this moment