Poetry Therapy

April is Poetry Month and Poetry Therapy can be the door that opens one to feeling, strengths, possibilities, and hope. April is poetry month; celebrated by yours truly by joining my poet comrades and doing a 30/30 (thirty poems in thirty days). This is month where lovers of poetry and spoken word are going to readings, doing open mics, conferences, and celebrations; there are special postings on websites, and sometimes a human interest spot on PBS News Hour. I am also amazed this month how the mechanics of writing has evolved; you don’t have to just put a pen to paper! I praise the emancipating and empowering way the word gets read and heard, through a device, hung on a wall, or out of ones smart phone (I know, it’s a device too…) The poem of the 21st century is technical. graceful, artful, and POWERFUL. HIV Here and Now (Using poetry and the arts to advocate for a world without HIV or AIDS) post poems from people like you and me, expressing our feelings , observations, and our voices for Na(HIV)PoWriMo ± (National (HIV) Poetry Writing Month ±) They are active year around with poems,, writing prompts, and workshops.   If you are a pen pusher (like me!) or just a lover of words, spoken or written, check them out! As the Therapeutic Poet, I use poetry therapy as a means to empower, treat, and recover, from obstacles, illnesses, and barriers one can come across in our lives. I also use the same power of the word and pen for my own health and wellness… (Like “Hair Club for Men,” I’m not only the therapist, but I use it!) As much as I have written, I NEVER wrote about my hiv.   Here are two of my poems, my first two poems, about my relationship with that rude guest in my body:   On That Day On that day doubt surrounded me like trees touching each other’s fingers; the foreboding forest grasping limb to limb arching over my head.   Yet, I kept moving forward foot in front of foot beyond the morass that enveloped my soles/soul looking for a clearing through the gaps between the branches the openings beyond the shame.   Though vines of cynicism Slapped/grabbed/tugged me down I kept lifting myself up Like a fawn’s first footing Fighting for solid ground   And I kept moving forward Not knowing where I was Not knowing where I was going I sliced through the fog of fear Though darkness was in my line of vision.   I just kept moving forward And kept looking up beyond the crimson chaos the grey shades of doubt Allowing light years of faith to come down Clear a path that suited me best And I kept moving forward Letting my faith do the rest.   Nothing is so scary Than what is ahead Nothing is so hopeful Than lifting my head Catching a glimmer of faith by looking to the heavens So on that day keep moving forward Somehow, Someway.   IF YOU REMEMBER NOTHING ELSE, REMEMBER THIS If you remember nothing else, remember this: That history dances with time And may tap you on the shoulder for a dance; Grab its hands Don’t let it wrap its arms/hands Around your waist You guide it/ rest them securely Where it can follow you Take your arms, toned with the constant exercise of dignity and discipline; your sturdy hands – Ready to grip/hold/fight But cajole/caress/comfort with Your feet firmly planted which No one can sway Hold history             tightly Hold life        firmly And lead; Lead, LEAD Read More About: #poetry Join The Discussion  Comments PreviousHappy Anniversary… blogger profileLora René Tucker NextApril 3, 1968