There was a decade stretch
where I didn’t write poetry.
I always craved the feeling of writing
like the very air that I breathe...
But I was betrayed by someone
who I thought loved me
They used my writing against me
and I vowed to never write again.
But then a man came along.
A stranger.
He wrote a book,
A 10-year collection of poetry.
I read it from cover to cover
and it struck a nerve in me.
That writing itch
that hadn’t been scratched in too long.
That night, I wrote a poem titled “Fear”.
I locked it away in my notebook
and hid it from everyone.
“No one will ever know”
I said to myself.
Even after writing this poem,
the itch was still there.
I wrote another and another,
But I couldn’t satisfy the urge
10 years of suppression
Was escaping from my fingertips
And I couldn’t stop.
I worked up the nerve to submit my poem to a contest.
The poem that I was so afraid of someone reading,
Had won a poetry contest.
I was shaken to my core
So I wrote another
And another.
This was one year ago.
Since then,
I’ve shared 38 poems,
and won 5 contests,
And I owe it all to a stranger who wasn't afraid to write a book.
So, to you, dear stranger poet,
Thank you for being unafraid to share your writing with the world.
Thank you for sparking that fire inside of me.
Thank you for making me, me again.