Jodi Hottel
Anais Nin said, “We write to taste life twice, in the moment, and in retrospection.”
Her statement captures one of the reasons I am a poet. My poetry, whether in response to a personal experience, a work of art, or a slice of history, usually comes into being through an emotional experience that I want to taste again and allow my readers to sample as well.
ANNOUNCEMENT:
I am honored to be included in the new anthology The Gate of Memory, edited by Brynn Saito and Brandon Som, Haymarket Books.
MY POEM FROM THE ANTHOLOGY:
A Few Seeds
Some instinct told me
I’d need those tiny packets of seeds
smuggled in my pockets —
cucumber, zinnia,
pea and chrysanthemum —
even more than I’d need a coat
to shield me from the stinging cold
of a desert winter.
A few seeds sown into
improbable soil, watered using
tin cans from the mess hall garbage,
till tender shoots peeked
above ground
reaching
for the meager
warmth
of April.
Now, rambunctious morning glory vines
tangle with cucumber,
climb tarpaper walls
to disguise this bleak barrack.
Snowy mums and golden zinnias
waken and nod their noble heads.
I stroll in the shadow
of a guard tower
as heat softens to dusk.
In block after block
green patches of wonder
are sprouting,
cultivated by those, like me,
who thrust into coat pockets
tiny packets of hope.