On the last day of my elegiac poetry class, our professor left us with the words, “Poetry is an equipment of life.”
Before taking this class, I had not been exposed to poetry much. If anything, I had to read long, boring sonnets in my language arts classes in high school, but they did not spark much inspiration. I remember skimming through them quickly, slapping an analysis on a sheet of paper and turning it in — hoping for the best.
This semester, I took a class centered on poetry, specifically elegiac poetry, poetry that was written about grief, losing someone and managing the complex emotions that come with the grieving process. Though I have not lost anyone I had a very close relationship with, I would soon learn that this class completely changed my outlook on poetry and creative expression.
In the first class, we began a very close reading of a 500-page compilation of elegiac poetry. At first glance, the lines of a poem seem arbitrary and shallow. They look like just a couple of words strung together with sporadic, occasional punctuation that does not follow a particular order or rule. Sometimes, when you read a poem, it is teeming with so much figurative language that the simple question of “What does this mean?” feels impossible to answer. However, as you practice closer reading more and more, the metaphors, similes and analogies in poems feel like they almost pop out of the page, screaming at you to find them, understand them and make connections.
As the semester continued, the language of poetry morphed from something that always confused me into a natural form of communication. When my professor assigned us to write our own version of a poem we analyzed in class, I took the opportunity to write it about one of my best friends from my hometown. Taking inspiration from class readings, I explored the use of metaphor, equating our friendship and what this person meant to me with the beauty we see in everyday life. Writing this allowed me to not only reminisce on memories I hold dear to my heart, but to reflect on the time we spent together, practice gratitude and learn to cherish even the little things in life. Long story short, writing that poem changed the way I looked at our friendship; though I had always appreciated it, poetry allowed me to unlock a deeper sense of gratitude that was much, much more fulfilling.
Motivated by this experience, I wanted to see how I could use poetry as a way to understand and process my emotions: the good, the bad and the ugly. I started writing poetry every couple days, whenever I had the time, and especially when I wanted to work through stress, anxiety or feeling discouraged. Drawing on the figurative language we learned in class, I was able to express things to myself that I had never found the words to do so before. Poem by poem, it felt like I was in a live therapy session. My poetry became a window into my soul that I had only just now stumbled upon; it unlocked a new sense of self-growth and understanding that made me realize that the art of poetry is not something to be taken lightly.
Poetry gave me the tools to not only express myself, but to know myself in a new light. It helped make sense of the world around me, connect with the poets I was reading and view the world with a heightened sense of gratitude and grandeur.
Poetry, no doubt, is definitely “an equipment of life.”