April is Poetry Month. A whole month of rhyme and rhythm, metaphor, allusion. Every word the density of a black hole in your mind. Poetry is love in language.
April was much fun in my bookstore. Writing contests for elementary school kids. Poetry slams for tweens and teens. Several readings a week from all manner of poets in Albuquerque. One of our event coordinators was a regional poetry publisher, so we had our pick of the best. We had music every week all year, but in April it was magical — our incredibly talented house band with equally talented word-smiths, riffing off each other, challenge and riposte. Never missing a beat or a symbol.
In memory it glows and beckons. I wish…
So in April there will be poetry.
of the rippling streams
of the rippling streams am i made of song of starlight of soft black earth no mere house of spirit am i no mere mortal cage of red granite am i hewn and veins of molten steel yea, this corporeal me of miracles is cloven of glory is woven i am more than i am i am that i know and more and more of the rippling airs am i formed of crystal fountains of rooted foundations of mighty forges and what i sing is always yea, i am eternal hard as diamond fluid as fire reborn in the now always i am alive alight a bright torch of being yea, to be and to be always is my birthright for of rippling waves of light am i yea, i am
©Elizabeth Anker 2021