Poetry is what you find
in the dirt in the corner,
overhear on the bus,
God in the details,
the only way to get from here to there.
Poetry (and now my voice is rising)
is not all love, love, love,
and I’m sorry the dog died.
Poetry (here I hear myself loudest)
is the human voice,
and are we not of interest to each other?
~Elizabeth Alexander from “Ars Poetica #100: I Believe”
I started writing regularly over ten years ago as a way to explain who I am to people I will never meet. A few have recognized my human voice and shown an interest. Some are just picture people and find the words unnecessary.
The photos as well as the words make up my voice, now preserved in a timeless trove of ever-changing sunrises and sunsets, of trees that bloom and fruit and shed to naked, of a small part of creation that is just like me.
God is in the details of our lives if we only we stop to look and listen. How we meet each other matters as He joins our hands on this journey together.
And when will I hear you tell your story?