silence

What Inspired Me: Poem Left Wanting

Poem left wanting
From: (In)different math.
By: Kristin Lueke

Tell the question you needed.
What sound our separate quiets make at each other while we sleep.

What made you separate?
How is it you measure what time strung between our bodies?

Where lied your if?
Too near to then.

Did is softly first happen?
His newness once was soft.

Ours was a stone I swallowed and kept inside and keep.
Do you breathe him?

I can only.

***

Great writing isn’t gentle. It doesn’t take you by the hand and lead you for a casual walk through the author’s thoughts. Great writing intrudes. It snatches your soul. It demands that you run with it on a whirlwind trip of emotionally honest imagination. It hurts and it inspires. Great writing exhausts and it pisses you off that you didn’t write the words that now won’t escape your head.

Words like, “What sound our separate quiets make at each other while we sleep.”

Perhaps I’m too sentimental. Maybe I carry too much inside that I wish I’d had the guts to say when they actually mattered—all those “I’m sorry’s,” or “I love you’s,” or “screw you’s,” I never said, and all the “how are you really doing?” questions I never asked.

It could be that I just don’t know a damn thing about poetry. Doesn’t matter, really. This poem moves me. The words remind me of the silent pain of my own separate quiet. It inspires me to speak and write, work and love.

Thank you, Kristin.

Now comes the fun part. What inspired you this week?

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