me: a poet

Every summer the Utah Shakespeare Festival shakes it's fierce head and makes a loud roar over Cedar City. With the festival comes Cabaret in the Grind Coffeehouse on Thursday evenings at 11 pm. One Thursday evening in mid-October, I happened to go to the Cabaret. That night only two of the actors were performing: Cate Cozzens sang and Matt Zambrano reciting slam poetry.

poetry.

Never had I heard words that spoke more to me than in those poems. I left the Grind that night thirsting for more. The placement of every piece of those poetic puzzles penetrated my person. I searched slam poetry on YouTube, Netflix, Wikipedia, and everywhere else I thought I could find something that might feed my soul. I started to struggle with my own words, trying to find the right ways to say what I was feeling.

My friend Megan, who owns Main Street Books, started an open mic poetry night and asked me to come perform some of the stuff that I had been writing. The night of the open mic night approached and I got scheduled to work. I couldn't let that stop me. I needed to get on stage to read something that I had written. I wanted to prove to myself that I could write and that people would enjoy my words when I recited them. 

The night came and I took a drink/bathroom break to hurry the two blocks from my job to Main Street Books so I could read my poetry in front of an audience. I arrived, gasping, and asked Megan if I could be the first to read my poetry. She said of course and told her master of ceremonies that I needed to go first. I read two poems that night. The latter of the two was entitled Heart. I got the idea for the poem when my institute teacher commented that people used to believe that when a human heart is touched it stops beating. 

I reworked my Heart poem after that night. I refined it, polished it and submitted it to the Kolob Canyon Review. That was a week and a half ago. I have yet to hear back from them on if it was accepted, but I'm keeping my fingers crossed. 

Poetry helps me. I feel more when I write poetry than when I use words in any other way. The other day, I had one of my most sincere prayers to God when I started to write a poem that I had titled Aba, Father. In the end, it turned into something so personal and true that I don't see myself sharing lightly. It touched me and I felt that Heavenly Father heard my prayer through the poem. 

I know that everyone has their talents, something they are good at and that touches them. For me, it's poetry in nearly any form (I even started listening to rap). I'm pretty sure God is going to start answering my prayers in poetry. 

So, I just want to share with you my poem that I have put the most time into the past couple months:

Heart

Humanity once believed

a human heart stops when touched.

Though, modern medicine teaches us otherwise,

it still feels like our heart stops.

People enter as surgeons  

to the operating room of our lives.

They care for us, cry with us,  

cut us open, touch our hearts,

and leave us on the surgery table

bleeding. Heart broken.

Our heart beats freeze.

For a moment we feel hopeless, unsedated.

We try to drown out the pain

by occupying our minds,

but when left to ponder on our situation

we cannot deny the fact that we need fixing.

Patient becomes surgeon

with scalpel and stitch,

we can fix ourselves.

Our circulation returns

waking us from the nightmare.

We are still alive

and can still make something

of emotional malpractice.

Touch doesn’t stop a heart.

It makes it beat stronger.