National Poetry Writing Month 2017 is imminent. And I’m sleepless. Will I really commit? The truth is, I want this. I want this month-long creative challenge to craft thirty poems in thirty days in the midst of life happening. I want to surrender to process. To imperfection. To synchronicity. To beauty.
I’ve participated twice before: in 2013, with a self-published collection of poems to show for it, and again last year without any goals other than to stay the course. A few of those poems, the ones I later considered best, are still here.
My experience each time was immense, so much so that I can’t imagine repeating either. But then of course I can’t repeat anything. Those poems are written. So I’m poised at a cusp that feels like an oxymoron: the familiar unknown. Thirty poems in thirty days? Truthfully, I’m afraid. So, as is my custom, commitment despite fear comes next. I’m in.
And I’ve had an idea that would make this month very different from my two prior NaPoWriMo jags. I’m considering an overarching theme aligned with my passion for ongoing adult development. I’ll describe it here.