You Have Not, Because You Ask Not

So, in all honesty the blog slipped my mind. Studying for finals, doing poetry shows, and practicing for Brave New Voices (http://youtube.com/results?search_query=brave+new+voices&search_type=) had me preoccupied. As well as trying to find ways to gather money to publish my first book of poetry--on college student wages.

I had this bright idea, so I thought. It hit me like morning breath from your significant other, only you don't care because you love them. I wanted to further my cause, by getting my poetry into a book. No lie, I was checking out webpage’s like donatemoney2me.com and cyber begging, and e-panhandling. I was serious.

Thing is I was about to quite on my poetry if it meant I had no products, as if the book or the cd came before the poetry. Even before finding these at first glance-comical sites. I was gradually putting poetry in the corner as if it'd done something wrong, while it had done everything right, in its own way.

Dr. Williams, the director of Multicultural Affairs on Florida Atlantic Universities Boca Campus completely shifted my perspective when she'd reminded me of this.

I so rudely slammed my bright idea down on her lunch table in the cafe today.
I thought I had it all figured out, I got my deep magenta empty bin of Charmin adult wipes, wrote in black Sharpie "Help me publish my first book of poetry," placed a sheet that told the donor about the author, and the latest newspaper articles I had been published in, to see that I was for real.

In all my confident actions I was doubting poetry all along, Mrs. Williams reminded me that it was God given, that those sorts of talents speak for themselves and no amount of money could hold it. She reminded me of the urgency some authors had to get into the newspaper and how I had been written about without knocking on a single door. That plenty of authors publish and never go out to address the public externally about their work--but somebody pays for their words.

Dr. Williams said, you're putting your talent in the corner and neutralizing it, while you go place a tangible value on something that is intangible; it's over there yelling "BUT, look what I've already done".

Dr.Williams offered up the sort of wisdoms you can't pay for. They were like, shooting stars, and fire flies. So beautiful to the ear, I wanted to catch them or at least take a picture, so I wrote. She reminded me, "the poetry came before the book," and I wrote. "You already have the credibility," that I jotted too. "The talent is already working for you , don't neutralize it" and take that energy away from what it's done because soon it will become about the money and not the poetry. I sat in awe. I nearly betrayed the very thing that had never turned its back on me.
In an instant I compacted my words into nothing, even after the tears it caused to flow from the eyes of those who heard it, from the inspiration it left middle school students, the copies of it people had requested, from the attention it had won, and the golden praises people didn't know the worth of helped to keep it alive.

Poetry had not been some gold tooth rapper talking about soup and soda. It was not just violently ranting and offering no alternative route. Poetry had been truthful, had substance, had life, and truth all into one. And it had been signed and sealed by God.

She did not stop there though. She gave me an innovative way to offer listeners an opportunity to give back to the poetry, after it has enlightened them, stirred them, awakened them, made them smile, and made them feel good. She said, this is what I think a poets hat would look like. You know those little magnet words? Well, she said, it would have those all over it. The moment she said that, I knew the way that seemed right to me would have led to a death of not only my poetry, but myself, and those people who were to hear it.

The first thing she said to me though, was, if you need money, why are you performing for free? I never wanted it to be about the money. But was it because I didn't think my talent deserved to go further by other means? All along the value had been in the talent. I needed not to explain my poetry first, but let my poetry explain itself. And then, could it charter waters of open mics to islands of books and cds so it could be heard in any arena.


I leave you with some of Dr. Williams last words that continue to ring in my ears...

"You have to be prepared for the universe to give back , or it can't."

p.s. I found this ridiculous 12-year-old poet, enough said: