Sit in a favourite chair by a window.
Go for a walk, run, or ride a bike.
Observe. Feel. Move.
Keep a notebook and pencil near by.
Jot. Record. Note.
Think about words and images and life.
Pay attention. Make connections.
Write – even if the words never become a poem.
Write – even if the words are read by you alone
Write – because this is how the poem finds itself.
Live – because this is where the poem begins.
This is the final poem for this year’s National Poetry project. As always, this daily writing exercise has flexed muscles of observation that easily grow flabby in the distracted way that I am prone to live.
At the moment our lives are still restricted by a global pandemic, and this has certainly forced us to consider how much we actually needed all those distractions. Today, our government announced a plan to gradually reopen much of what has been closed, and while I look forward to this, I also want to remain still and quiet and observant. I have much more to see and know and learn – about the world, certainly, but mostly about myself and about the God who knows the power of words.