A Poet

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A Poet

Mikaila Mack

3.3.12

I write because

 

I want to be a Poet.

 

I want to be the spot of fertile soil

That you seek out

When you’re angry.

 

The place you put your foot

To take root

When you’re hating—

The world for what it did to you.

 

I want to be a Poet

 

Why?

 

Because I want to be the

            The Cries for the Helpless

            The Words for the Mute—

            The Limbs for the Crippled—

And the Lifeline…for the Suicidal.

           

When I go to bed at night—no.

When I go to bed Tonight,

I don’t want a bed.

 

I want to lie down

On a pile of papers.

I want to be able to look up at those stars

With Nothing in my hands—

And know

Beyond a shadow of a doubt,

That I gave up

Everything I had

To those that didn’t have.

 

 

Because I want to be a Poet

And I can create anything.

 

I want to be the Tears

That spring from your eyes

For no reason at all.

 

I want to be your air

So that if you ever decide

On a lonely night

That you ever want to

Stop breathing…

            I will be there to make you breathe—

            I will be there to give you CPR—

            I will be there to bring you back—

And I will be there to keep your heart beating.

 

Don’t give up on me now

            Because

                        I want to be a Poet.

 

I will be the roots at your feet

So that when you’re angry

I can draw out all of that Hatred

And turn it into Acceptance.

 

Because that is what’s wrong

With the world—

People don’t accept others

For what they are.

 

And people aren’t perfect

 

They’re selfish

And greedy

They hate

And they’re vain

But we’re all just the same.

 

And that’s not even it

Because then we have the nerve

To complain about our pathetic lives

When there are so many others

Out there still hurting.

 

I'm sorry, but if you didn't know that

Look it up.

Ignorance is not bliss.

 

I want to be a Poet

 

Because even the world's problems

Makes us feel tiny,

 

I will connect all of our grains of sand

To the ones across the pond.

 

I can teach Acceptance

And Gratitude

And Selflessness.

 

So that maybe one day,

We can love one another

Like God loves all of us.

 

I want to be a Poet because

Life is Poetry.

 

And we can't all fit

In Society's box

Because life is Movement

And Poetry is flow.

 

We flow to make our own choices

And a Box

Just goes with the flow.

 

I want to be a Poet because

I want to be the Difference.

 

I want every soul to touch

When my poem is read.

I want every kiss to linger

And peace to come to the dead.

 

I want all Pain to be Healed

And all Sighs to be Paused.

(Even if it means that all Space

and Time stops).

 

I want to be a Poet because

I want to hold your hand.

 

And I don't need that much more

Since I gave up everything I had.

Remember?

 

I want to be the seconds

You count down (3...2...1)

Until you see their face again.

To be the instant your eyes lock

And the moment

You reunite (zero.)

 

I want to be

The first breath you take

When you're coming up for air

The last time

You sink so low

            The last time you
            Despair.

 

I want to be your relief.

 

And finally,

I want to be a Poet because

I want to be free.

 

I want to know my life is

bigger

Than

Just

Plain

Old

Me.

 

And when a kid asks me

Why I'm so important,

I can tell him that I saved

The World.

 

So the next time my mom

(or anyone else)

Asks me why I write,

I’ll proudly Declare:

 

“It’s because I want…no.

Because I am going to be…

A Poet.”

 

And I won’t stop writing until I get there.

 

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