unpinned poetry

nothing is permanent

not passion

not love

not even the brief architecture of our lives

we are all written in pencil

smudged by time

erased by morning

and yet

if there is a moment even one

where we choose to step fully into the flame

to let it warm us or burn us or rename us

then we can say we lived truly

not carefully

not safely

but honestly

poetry is often taught like a specimen pinned to a board

meter measured,

metaphors labeled,

meaning embalmed

but poetry does not want to be studied first

it wants to be tested

pressed against the chest

argued with

misunderstood

loved at the wrong time in your life

a poem should interrupt you

it should rearrange the furniture of your mind

spill something you didn’t know you were carrying

you don’t read poetry to master it

you read it to let it bruise you slightly

to let it change the pitch of your breathing

to engage with poetry is to say

i am willing to be altered

i am willing to make something out of this

this fleetingness

this ache

this bright temporary pulse we call living

poetry is not the art of understanding

it is the art of standing inside a moment

long enough for it to understand you

and that

that is how we leave a mark

even if it fades