Hungry for that Poetry

I’m hungry for a poetry that craves the stars,

That reaches out with shivering skin to stroke

The great canvas of God’s loving-est whim.

I’m hungry for a poetry that isn’t about she and him –

Souls in the suspension of sticky misery. There

Are many of these – unfortunately. But

They don’t speak to that deep, resounding part of me.

Little of this do I find these days: the poetry

Ready on the sand to spring and catch the waves;

The poetry roaming the sparkling fields of new, dew-kissed days.

I’m hungry for a poetry that does more than ask who we are,

But walks down the hallway to the answer.

It – the answer – is not hidden under lock and key.

The door, I assure you, will open with ease; without a creak.

Then your tongue will dance and your lips commence to speak

And you will write marvelous poetry.

By Samantha Lindholm

Written April 12, 2012