old poetry

August 6, 2010

college hall
seems so long ago.

still, i remember
that poem.

midnight cravings
had us savoring poetry.
pulling all-nighters…
we slept
between the pages
of our journals.

we were young poets
in love,
with words.
writing poems
in poetry books.
we circled the words we loved.

invented an alphabet
of our own
so that our words
could be ours and ours alone.

we slipped poetry
into each others pockets
just to hold words in our hands.

what sweet poetry
we wrote.
how those words
bled out of our hearts
and into the ballpoints of our pens.

english class
was our favorite.
we fell in love
with e.e.cummings’
lowercase letters;
vowed to never
capitalize our words
because we wanted
them to speak softly.

the year ended,
so did the poems.
our words

years have passed.
i still keep words
in my pockets.

and when we reconnect
life comes back to those words.
words come back to us
and we reinvent the alphabet.

poetic muse,
we are destined to write
and rewrite
the pages of new and old journals.

time and distance
cannot dry the ink of our pens.
our poetic energy
is fire… and we must burn.

~Sarahi Yajaira, 2010

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