I wish I was good at poetry.
That my left brain would leave my right alone.
Words flowing haphazardly into beauty
Rather than precisely into semicolons.
I wish my journal was full of poetic notions
As much as my mind seems to be.
Yet, it is not.
But all is as it should be;
The world might make sense only through poetry
but that’s not how I make sense to the world.
Becca Kello 