Unhappiness has always been a spur to creative artists. Expression is relief. Thousands of pages of journals help people deal with myriad problems, losses, discouragements, and the impulse to punish those who have caused injury. Poems do the same, but in a guise that’s usually pretty socially acceptable. The pressure behind the poetry is the hope that someone else will read it, and comprehend its author’s otherwise hidden needs. Admittedly, a purpose less than admirable, but if it reaches someone to whom it actually speaks, perhaps that doesn’t really matter.

You can’t just go out and have a drink with friends and tell them about why your recurring dream is terrifying or depressing you. You can’t face the bemusement or hilarity if you reveal your passion (if it’s real). You can write a poem and liberate what you can’t contain in your own skull. Not a lot of people read poetry, but those who do may become friends who understand you better than anyone else in your circle.

Now that I’ve discovered the uses of poetry, I rely on it to put my psyche and spirit and even my brain in a state of balance that provides access to enjoyment, allows those backward glances that remind us of the best we’ve known, and guarantees continuing sensibility.

That last is a word to apply to all forms of writing intended for readers other than the author. A writer depends not on just all five senses, s/he requires the mindset that permits reactions to them. There are plenty of unfortunate people in the world who lack none of the physical equipment doled out at birth, but who haven’t developed the capacity to notice. There’s the mission in art.

I think sensitivity is something that can be taught, and that too little time is spent reminding youth of subtler things than those they can experience on an LED screen. I feel compelled to try to remedy that lack. If more people could imagine the feelings (literal and emotional) of others with accuracy, surely they would want to struggle to change a world where violence is as casual as taking a drink of water.

©2012 Joan L. Cannon for SeniorWomen.com

Wikimedia Commons Illustration: Poet Lucille Clifton's plaque, outside New York Public Library

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