We are the poets

The lovers, the fighters,
searching for truth, gasping for air
Tearing down walls, dancing through sorrow
Working our way through collective pain while standing on the edge of the cold hard mouth of the world


We are the dreamers

Pen in hand, heart on sleeve
Laying ourselves bare, tattooed with words
hearts beating in iambic pentameter;
wounds bleeding ink
Almost broken, nearly ****** yet driven by the indefatigable resilience to heal, syllable by syllable


We are the brave

Shining light in our darkest rooms
Stories of our catastrophic follies
Revealing in verse our deepest secrets, our greatest fears
Standing naked and wet on ice-cold tile in front of an unforgiving mirror yet unwilling to break the stare


We are misunderstood

Hopeless romantics in broken-hearted clothing
Teary eyed but vision clear
Laughing together, crying alone
Gnashing our teeth but holding steady our hand on the rudder, gently guiding the soul of the world


We are the witness and the witnessed

When the story of the world has been told
And the sun has set
a record of all that we have written will be discovered
And in that sacred text, the story of just how inexpressibly beautiful every single moment of our lives have been

We are the poets - never. stop.