That the first words we wrote down back when we were still learning how to spell and form letters into words into sentences were poems. That the songs that mean the most to us are essentially poems set to music. That the first thing we wanted to give our first crushes was a poem. That at some point, later on in life, our love/other will say, in one of those ridiculous but actually kind of serious arguments: you never write me poems anymore. That that novel we wrote, or the one we intended to write but have yet to finish, and maybe will never finish, kicked off with a few lines from a poem. That when we’re writing in our journals in the late hour or at the top of a mountain, we feel compelled to write a poem.
Is it any good?
Yes, and no. Maybe, probably not. And of course!
Did it feel good to write it?
What does it mean?
This now, something else later, and whatever came to your mind, in this particular moment. You’ll likely forget, but if you do remember, the meaning will have changed. Hopefully. If not, that’s wonderful as well.
Happy National Poetry Month!