Each day this month I have written a poem. I know that this sounds impossible. It certainly feels impossible to me. I joined a group of like-minded poets arranged by Laura Shovan to celebrate her February birthday with poetry. Writing in a community can feel impossible. How can I meet the standards? Who am I to believe I am a poet?
But I did it, every day. This makes me believe that impossible things are possible. I have hope that we can exist in a world where poetry brings solace, hope, and community. Today, Heidi Mordhorst posted a similar art piece to compare our group to a circle of stars. I went to the linked page and found The Eclipse. There are different perspectives from each person in our galaxy. Some may see a circle, some see the dots of paint, and some focus on the dark center. However you view art, poetry, or time is yours alone. You get to decide.
But as Heidi so wisely said, “Some days, our circle was a parachute, lifting or sinking, catching or launching you. Some days our circle was the deepest well or mirrorest puddle, and maybe there was a day when our circle was a black hole of obligation, until the next day when you caught sight of a certain name, a certain voice, and our space became a sequin of possibility again.”
Tomorrow I will begin another writing journey, the annual Slice of Life Challenge from Two Writing Teachers. Today it feels impossible to write a blog post every day in March. If you read my blog, you are always welcome to swipe left and delete it. But I hope you’ll stick with me, cheer me on, and remind me that impossible means “I’m possible.”
Learning to write can seem impossible to a 6 year old. As I watch my grandson develop his reading, writing, and drawing skills, I am amazed at the capacity of our brains to learn. Here is a poem I wrote this month beginning with the space we make between words.
What space are you giving to yourself? How are you doing impossible things?
Reflections on the Teche 