Why Poetry?
Pensive, he looked away as if trying to find the words that, maybe in his mind, would not offend me. His shoulder touched his chin for a second before he said, “I mean, I just don’t get it. What’s the point?”
“Of writing?”
“Yeah, I mean, writing, blogging…poetry — who’s reading this and what’s the point of it?!”
My heart sank at the realization that this guy I liked so much wasn’t able to see the power of words; the fire, the passion, the rational thinking that is found only through these irrational thoughts and imagination. How could he fail to see the beauty in it?
“But it’s so…f-cking…beautiful,” I said.
And he just laughed.
It was almost offensive to hear someone put down all of Shakespeare’s creations without the conversation even being about him. I guess, just as he didn’t understand my point, I could not understand his. Still, I wasn’t aware that there were people who could actually underappreciate pretty deep words. It killed me a little inside, if I could admit. It made me realize how much it mattered to me to be with someone who could find beauty in the smallest of all things.
