#iwentfirst: Just Push Publish
I wrote a poem.
Which may not seem like an act of contagious courage to some, but for me, it feels like leaping off a cliff without a net.
Yes, I write. Yes, I’m a “writer.” But I’ve never been a “poet.”
Or at least that’s what I told myself.
Until I found this beautiful notebook at Hobby Lobby many months ago.
It has a thick cover with an elephant outlined on the front. Its pages are heavy, dense, unlined, and weighted down by the heft of endless possibility.
So, I bought expensive markers and tried to draw, but all of my attempts to fill the sheets with shapes and color inevitably turned into a pile of discarded ideas.
Abandoning the artist’s path, I broke out my “good pens”, intent on turning this beautiful space into a new journal, curious about the power of writing on unlined pages, hopeful it might teach me to live outside the lines.
It didn’t.
Trying to unpack my purpose on unlined pages made me batshit crazy. Apparently, for me, purpose requires the safety of straight lines.
But poetry does not.
Which is where the courage comes in.
You see, I like safe stories. I’m good at telling safe stories. Really good.
I spend hours crafting the message I believe is meant for you, smoothing out the rough edges by carefully selecting the exact set of words that will move in you and make a home there. I tuck lessons inside of my own story, finding ways for you to see yourself in our common suffering and our shared experience of joy.
And by the time I’m done, often days later, I have built something sturdy. Something predictable. Something safe.
But poetry is different. There is nothing predictable about it.
Instead of producing a sense of safety, poetry creates an invitation to a wild, expansive, untamed world of words, capable of creating something entirely new in every person who hears.
Writing a poem is like falling in love with air or dancing when there is no music. It does not need an object for its affection, nor does it want for a melody with which to move.
Poetry is the object.
It is the music.
And I don’t know if I have the heart to love like that or the ears to hear, but I’m going to find out.
Because I am so tired of telling myself the things I am not. I am much more interested in knowing who I am.
And today, I am poet because today, I’ve written a poem.
And that’s all it takes - an unlined notebook, a little willingness to listen, and a commitment to contagious courage that can change the world.
Want to read the whole poem? You can get Found here.
#iwentfirst is a gallery of photos and captions from women who stood in the power of their own contagious courage, and decided to “go first” by telling the world what it means for them to take up space.
Have your own story of contagious courage?