The ability to situate a certain emotion
a moment
into words.
To verbally grasp what seems indefinable
unexplainable.
How hard it is to be confined
to such a strict word box
when trying to illuminate feelings
experiences
human interactions
that far exceed the language barrier.
The poet is the conductor
bringing forth a symphony of explosions.
Giving release to catastrophic
confined
guarded emotions.
A musician
tugging and tearing on hearts resounding strings
leaving an encore of wide eyes.
Godlike
resurrecting words.
The reader only dreams
the dangers of this power
The ability to force the eyes to jump back
line after line
stanza after stanza
in an attempt to better grasp what was read
the first
second
third time around.
It was crystal clear the very first time.
Words organized and placed perfectly
it seems foreign
to the bland
trained eye.
The gift.
May the words of the poet continue to give
to the peculiar
vast world of feelings,
those that you could not explain yourself.
– Breelyn Shelkey
whatiwanttodoeveryday 
That is the beauty of poetry
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