For as long as I can remember, I have always found a strong amount of value within the power of literature. As a misunderstood and misbehaved child throughout my grade-school years, I would refuse to do any activities except sitting in the corner of the room and reading the anthologies. Despite my tough attitude toward other subjects like math and science, my teacher became astounded when I had blown through the all of the third grade readings as a first grader. Even though they had mostly no clue what to do with me, they at least figured out that they could grab and hold my attention with reading and writing.
Continuing on my educational journey, I reached middle school where my strengths in this area began to further progress and advance past my peers. I read about everything I could get my hands on, and when I wasn’t reading, I thought about how much I wanted to be reading. It was around this time that I began to realize how much I loved poetry, as I began to explore and experiment within this medium in my free time. Yes, I wrote poems for fun. And yes, they were bad. But I was doing something I enjoyed, and that is truly all that matters.
Once I got into high school, my love for poetry deepened as my literature class during my sophomore year focused on poetry in entirety. Robert Frost, Walt Whitman, Sylvia Plath – you name it, I read it and interpreted it. For some reason, it just really clicked with me – I was able to read a poem and paint a picture in my head and escape to it. Isn’t that the goal of poetry after all?
This brings me to current day. I sit here on a sunny Saturday, writing this post alongside my sister doing her homework (just bonding). I write this post and look to my desktop, where one of my favorite short poems is displayed. It is by Rupi Kaur, and yes this may seem like a jumping-on the bandwagon in terms of poetry. When I saw it, it struck such a chord in me that reminded me of the past year, which was the hardest and most trying year of my life. I was able to pick myself up, rising out of the ashes in a sense. Hopefully, for those of you struggling with a hard time in your life, know that I sympathize with you and offer my help whenever needed.
Until then, I leave you with this poem:
the world
gives you
so much pain
and here you are
making gold out of it.
there is nothing purer than that.
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