I’ve pulled poetry out of the shatter of broken bottles
And in the threads of stained sheets
Found rhythm in bluesy rants
And on the needle of scratched records of sordid yesteryears
Yes, I’ve caught stories in winds blown from haggard sighs
And abandoned cries that sat idly by on the corners of
notebooks
Waiting to be heard…and written
I caught words riding on the wings of brief hellos and
forced goodbyes
My eyes have witnessed the prettiest poesy
In the ugliest ugly
I've learned that poetry lies between each scarring
Of blemishes and unwarranted hurt
Birthed from unrequited infatuations
And grown from uncultivated seeds
I have heard spoken word spill through sealed lips
That couldn’t contain secrets
Yet they remained mysteries
Because the flow of poetry offers anonymity
Even in its revealing
I’ve stepped in whole verses
Sprinkled in the aftermath of cumulus storms
Causing poetry to stick to the bottom of my shoes
Putting pulse in my walk… making me able
Able to walk words onto the spread of life
Finding poetry has afforded me the privilege
To pick beauty from the devastations
And place it in the center of wreckages of busted bubbles
Finding poetry has proven the existence of something more
We find our equals in admittances
And utterances of truth
Finding poetry gives voices and lends hands
To the quiet and the helpless
Little girls find their youth and little boys find their
chance
People find their hope
When reading or hearing their lives poeticized and memorized
By someone else who recognized their cries
And they never even knew that they were spotted
In the cracks and crevices of nothingness
But when you find poetry
