Inspiration - it's a funny thing. It can come at odd times, and in odd ways. I've always loved that scene in "Dead Poets' Society" where Robin Williams character, John Keating, is trying to get the shy kid, Todd Anderson, to look inside himself and find the words there. He teaches him by putting questions to him, in a rapid-fire way, and gets an image from the boy, of - and this has always been a favorite description - a "sweaty-toothed madman." What an image that portrays! The lesson was about asking those questions and going from that inner place, learning to trust it, learning to believe in it, and letting it run a little free, on occasion. That is the essence of inspiration. Learning to trust that deep-seeded drive, the secret longing of expression that we all have inside us - that is what takes us from simple words to the art and soul of poetry. So, where does your inspiration come from? What pulls it from you, and when are you most alive? What will each of us find when we explore it?
It's something to think about.
Today's inspiration is from an incident I was able to bear witness to, and it was at once both mundane and extraordinary. I won't go into details, but it stayed with me.
The Crying Girl
she doesn't understand, yet,
that it doesn't matter,
that it's all just preparation for the things to come,
it's not worth the energy,
the tears,
the fighting against the pressure.
she's been taught to stand proud,
be strong,
be better,
be faster,
be more,
to not let the world touch her.
but there she is,
her face a mess,
feeling low,
weak,
unsure,
unable,
a ruined thing.
she cannot see the lesson, yet,
but she will, one day,
when she is facing the same thing through older eyes,
and there is another,
fraught with stress,
feeling out-of-place.
then she'll see
and understand,
as i have today,
when i am reminded of
a phone call i once made
and someone else
did the same for me.
Thanks for reading,
Me
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