Poetry Rituals


I used to be a ferocious reader.  Consuming large amounts of poetry and classic literature eagerly.  It’s been years since I was that person.  But the feeling of wholeness - getting lost in discovery, that’s never left.  

Last week was my birthday. At my birthday dinner my 7 year old son announced, “I think everyone in our family should do something new everyday after their birthday.” THIS BOY! His little soul is so precious and beautiful it breaks my heart everyday.   

I didn’t take his suggestion lightly. There’s a lot of meaning in what he said, and I’m at this point right now in my life that this felt exactly like something I should be doing.  But I didn’t want to over commit or under commit.  I wanted to pick something that would have meaning, but that I could sustain for 365 days. I tossed around a bunch of different ideas. Maybe I’ll start a vlog, or a new work-out fad, or daily affirmations?  Then one night last week I found myself wandering along the aisles of one of my favorite book shops. I love books. The smell, the feel, all of it.  I feel like I am wrapped in humanity when I’m in a bookstore.  And that’s when it hit me. I can’t read as much as I’d like to all the time. Some days I’m too tired or busy or whatever. But I can certainly wake up every morning and read a poem. And even if I don’t have time to absorb it in those 5-10 minutes, the words can stay with me all day, all week, all month, and I can ruminate in them. 

So, this year, 2018, every morning, I will wake up to a poem.  Right now, I’m starting with a book of poetry by Rudy Francisco called Helium. It’s a perfect foray into a daily  poem ritual.  They’re short, but packed full of human experience.   

Right now, one of my favorites is Horizon: 



I hope I haven’t already driven

 past my greatest moments.

 I hope there is something

Beautiful on the horizon

that’s just as impatient as I am. 

Something so eager, 

it wants to meet me halfway. 

A moment that is diligently 

sraring at its watch, trembling with 

nervousness, frustrated, 

and bursting at the seams, 

wondering what’s taking me so long to arrive. 

Crystal Ahmadi