Looking over my shoulder

I was 13 when poetry found me in the library

hovering over the latest beauty magazines

wondering why I couldn’t see myself

Moma’s job had just ended, we still needed money for the past due light-bill

going to church wasn’t bad, as I recall Moma gave over every last cent paying for a miracle.

In the morning the sun rose gently, helping us with another lightless day

then it was poetry and I, stride by stride,

pain and grief, blood in the middle.

  I was writing,

kindness sis. Krissy 

 

 

7 responses

  1. loristrawn Avatar
    loristrawn

    Gorgeous, gorgeous, gorgeous! The best “why I started writing” story ever!

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Visionariekind Avatar

      I’m glad the pen found you too – 😊🎶

      Liked by 1 person

  2. Maren Avatar

    Thank you for sharing that story. It means a lot to me. Poetry found me when my father was drunk and raging through with all that PSTD and guns and craziness.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Visionariekind Avatar

      wow, so glad you made through all of it – thank God – and thanks for sharing it with me as well

      Like

      1. Maren Avatar

        Most poets I know are survivors … and I got lucky and my Dad found AA when I was 13 and it turned his life around, but I kept on writing.

        Like

      2. Visionariekind Avatar

        indeed we are, so glad you kept on writting also glad to know your dad was able to turn his life around, many are not so blessed – beautiful testimony 😊

        Like

  3. […] friend Krissy over at Visionarie Kindness Chronicles posted a poem today about her discovery of poetry and how it seeped into her being, helping her […]

    Liked by 1 person

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