Why Is A Poem...
Why is a poem the only form of therapy we poets cling to when expressing our loss of a loved one?
As if a stanza can ever wipe my tears for the life of my daughter.
Syllables will never know the breath I would give to hear her laughter once more.
I wish I knew the answer.
The answer to why sonnets are the closest thing to a rhythm of her heartbeat.
She used to grab my fingers like pens and I would tickle her into stories for my journal.
I used to keep a journal.
I stopped once I noticed my fingers would get shaky every time I opened it.
Her eyes were either green or blue, but I'm certain it was green.
It's hard to remember when photos kissed a flame after the tragedy, and I'm looking at 6+ years without even a glance of her marble shaped eyes.
I'm afraid to fall asleep because I'm afraid of forgetting more.
Do you remember when I said her eyes were green?
She had the radiance of a horizon brown sunset no haiku could ever fathom.
What does that have to do with green?
Absolutely nothing, I just want to make sure to never forget the color that often stared at me.
Even though I'm choosing to write this in poetry form and share it with you, I'm actually doing this for me.
I happen to be one of those poets who finds comfort in the morgue of a poetry piece.
From loved ones to ideas.
Dreams and emotions.
Expectations and desires.
If the graveyard is said to be the richest place, then poetry is the one who lives in it.
We are the ones who come when rent is due.
It pays us in reminiscing on tragedies more often than laughter.
A poem is a dirty cracked mirror we can't help but use to see how we look before stepping on stage or writing on page.
And I swear, I can still see my daughter's smile when I blink for just a second longer than a tear whenever I stand in front of that very mirror.
When you read or hear a poem, remember that it is always a confession.
We admit more in poetry than we do when thinking to ourselves.
Why do you think that happens?
It's because we are too afraid to speak it aloud; we use poetry as a gateway into honesty and admittance and it's sad.
When you can know about the lost of my daughter sooner than knowing my full name.
I ask you again, why is a poem the only form of therapy we poets cling to when expressing the loss of a loved one?
Brooklyn, New York's Luis "Storyteller" Cordova is a spoken word poet who blends classical style of poetry with modern display of performance. Claiming to be the illegitimate poetic child of Maya Angelou and Walt Whitman, he says he "breathes metaphors in the ribs of personification" to bring about imagination to everyday situations.
