Poetry Dare: Day 1

Before I begin the poem, I wanted to say that I had an absolutely awesome day.  Very interesting to say the least with quite exciting extra-curricular activities such as hearing an amazing set of poetry from Dominique Christine, a recent Women of the World Poetry Slam champion.  She is an amazing speaker, and she definitely geeked out with a ridiculously awesome tangent about etymology and the meaning of words.  I don't think the following is directly inspired by her set, but someday I hope to have a couple pieces flowing from the great poetry which was shared.

Now onto the poem... piece... thing which was produced:
(As yet untitled - I tend to keep work untitled until its worth doing the mental gymnastics to actually come up with a name for the work).

Some people think poetry needs to be clothed in pain
as though words could take the hurt, act
like a bandaid, cover up scars, and I'm
here to tell you, yes, this is possible, but
don't let words be your only salve. If they aren't
enough, take action and use your limbs to write
what your hands can't. Hold
yourself up on sturdy legs and stand
for something greater when the pen isn't enough.
Words have a limit to their application - they
won't feed you when you're hungry; they
won't clothe you when you're naked, but they can
make your realize how hungry you've been and
tell you what may have gone missing - they, the words,
can make you comfortable with your own nakedness and
expose your flaws as the raiment of divinity.
Your words can connect you, but
only if you allow them to.
Hands can hold just as much as they
can strangle, so
be careful with what you say as
poetry doesn't need to come dressed in the rags
of your past nor the mask of your fears.

Some people think that, in order for the pen to be
as powerful as the sword, it needs to make
someone bleed, but
poetry should not be forced into fighting
unless this is what it needs to do.
Sadness doesn't need to permeate your stanzas,
but it's okay
if it does.

You may not have known the kind of dark
that other poets do, but that doesn't mean
you should apologize for trying to make light
of the life you've seen, and you don't need to go
searching for dark to understand it. You've
already pulled all nighters to watch the sun
come up, sat on a roof and hugged your knees
in place of a warm body, felt loss like it
can't be explained, and you don't need to explain
yourself because these lines will not judge.
Just like no explanation is needed to see
the beauty of a sunrise in weary eyes, you
do not need
to apologize for yourself because you
are your words; you
are poetry. You
are never finished, yet
you are a complete sentence. A subject
constantly in search of lively verbs
and their
compliments.