till human voices wake us, and we drown

people say poetry is too complicated.

"i am not smart enough for it", they say.

well, i always wondered why i feel so blindly attracted to it, why do i like it so deeply and irrationally that i cant barely explain what it has that touches me.

i dont consider myself to be specially clever, therefore i think it has nothing to do with some elaborate and rational explanation. but i also reject those theories that appeal to some kind of superhuman misterious explanation and say that poetry is related with our primitive instinct or music, the stars and so on.

no, certainly there must be an explanation for it, eventhough i havent figure it out. yet.

the only thing i can say right now is that it heals. it is like music (although both work under a logical patron): somehow it goes through my skin directly into my flesh.

just the letters, only the words, maybe a couple of verses are enough: i dont need to understand all of it, i can go just with reading the whole poem through, catching some phrases, getting some sounds, imagining some moments. It gives me the peace and the hope in human kind, which is hope in their eternal, for connatural, ability to create unspeakable beauty that i seek every minute of my life.

it is as if poetry were somehow created by all humankind. it is as if i could get some credit for that achievement, just by the mere fact of being alive, but at the same time it is as if i was still awaiting for that voice to say the final truth, the one that we all know but are incapable of understanding and therefore saying (or does it go the other way roung?), the truth that would safe us somehow.

and so, since i cant imagine anything better than getting that sort of vibration that prevents us from sinking, i keep on reading...

till human voices wake us, and we...