I think I posted this poem a few months ago, then deleted it, but now it’s back because it’s one of my favourites and I haven’t posted a poem in a little while. You can read here why I posted poems then deleted them and am now reposting some.
Filling (written by Sarah Bennett)
My diet consists of books that speak to my heart,
The sweet and the ugly.
I read essays on grief and love and home and I try to find myself between the lines, for I don’t know that any one word alone fits into the dullest parts of me.
I restrain from shapeshifting into the simplest of words and instead search the meanings of those that do not sit comfortably in my mouth. Novels must feed both my desire to be happy and to hope and the heartache I know exists between happily ever afters.
I drink tea without sugar and I read poetry without rhyme. I water my plants and I collect dedications as though they are my loves as well as the author’s.
Each ending bleeds into the beginning of the next story until I no longer know what is the start and what is the last page. I have learnt that sometimes life ends on a cliff hanger, that the neatly wrapped up ending is not always the finale. The tragic middle, that sorrowful beast, can be where the story comes to a close.
I am trying to fill myself with the truth in words, I am trying to be full on the language that may not have synonyms for happy or shining or perfect. I am teaching myself to feed on the terms that cause my guts to spill out onto a blank page, because they are the terms that sustain me.
There is not enough time to read every book ever written, but I only need to find the ones that were written for me.
I will gladly spend the rest of my life hunting them down and devouring without shame.
Happy, happy, happy Friday!