I've done my part

You ask me how I can justify calling my words poetry

I say I don’t, I have neither the will nor the expertise

You ask me how then can I accept others labelling it so

I reply that my freedom is to write how I will, theirs to decide what it means to them

Then you ask but what of form

I tell you that each product of my pen is structured by my life, follows the form of each experience, shaped by the life it describes, the mind that receives its message

You ask me then but what of rhyme

I respond that every word of every line echoes the call of my soul’s response to the moment they capture

Ah but what, you ask, of rhythm

I explain that each written offering follows the rhythm of my heartbeat, of the song of the universe as it falls on the ears of my soul

And you ask me then to tell you what I think poetry is

And I ask you to tell me what you think it is not