It Was An Accident

Fifth period, after lunch.

Creative writing. 

The teacher started reciting poetry I had never heard of.

Langston Hughes, Maya Angelou, Georgia Douglas Johnson.

He put a pen in my hand, and a picture on the screen.

What the hell was I supposed to see?

Better yet, what was I supposed to write?

Inspite of my frustration, which turned into concentration,

I began to write.

I wrote the words that were locked deep in my heart.

Something began to click in my inner being, it was like live art.

My life started to make sense.

Poetry opened me up to a world I only dreamed about.

My class was shocked at how I could write something so deep,

Something so profound, in only 3 minutes for the bell ringer.

I hit it out of the park like a dinger.

But, I promise I didn't mean to.

I feel in love with the words that would only make sense to a poet.

Words that would pierce you in the heart like trident.

It was an accident.