I enrolled in a poetry class this semester, which is scary because I have never been trained to read poetry with a critical lens. I read to enjoy it, never really analyzing it or going off anything besides how I'm feeling with the words. I'm trying to be more adventurous and take things that scare me, and poetry definitely scares me. But this week, we were introduced to bp Nicol and his poem, Two Words: A Wedding. I've been having mixed emotions in regards to my writing lately, but this helped. Not only did it resonate with me, but it helped me remember why I write - to understand, to breathe life into words, to confirm, to help change - whether that is change in the world or change within us.
Two Words: A Wedding by bp Nicol
There are things you have words for, things you do not have words for.
There are words that encompass all your feelings & words that encompass none.
There are feelings you have that are like things to you, picked up & placed in the pocket, worn like the cloth the pocket is attached to, like a skin you live inside of.
There is a body of feeling, of language, of friends; the body politic, the body we are carried inside of till birth, the body we carry our self inside of till death, a body of knowledge that tells of an afterlife, a heaven, an unknown everything we have many words for but cannot encompass.
There are relationships between words & concepts, between things, between life & death, between friends & family, between each other & some other other.
We wed words to things, people to feelings, speak of a true wedding of the mind & heart, intuition & intellect, & out of this form our realities.
Our realities are wedded one to another, concepts & people are joined, new people conceived within that mesh of flesh & realities, are carried forward in the body of the mother, the family, the bodily love we have for one another.
They are creating their own reality each step of the way, daily, another kind of reality is born, each new word, person, expanding our vocabulary, our concepts, new realities are conceived, our old reality changes, the ‘real’ grows realer every day.
We are marrying the flesh to the flesh, the word to the daily flux of lives we know & don’t know, our friends grow older and marry, raise children as you once were children with mothers & fathers of your own, grow older, so many things you still lack words for, struggle to wed the inner & outer worlds, the self to some other self or selves, confess your love & struggle with one another, together, conscious there is this word in you, your name, & that you are yet another thing or things you will never encompass, never exhaust the possibilities of, because you are wedded to the flux of life, because we are words and our meanings change.
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