Inspired by a poet in Afghanistan

Grateful to have come across this article in the NY Times this morning.  I was reading a physical copy, over fresh homemade oatmeal in the kitchen of friends in the woods on, Lake Michigan, a different experience than reading online, I suppose, but here is a link to enjoy the story anyway.

http://www.nytimes.com/2013/08/19/world/asia/an-afghan-poet-shapes-metal-and-hard-words.html?pagewanted=all&_r=0

I has just been talking with a friend last night who is studying poetry, about love poems.  So, this poet /metalworker says, "A poet's  job is not to write about love.  A poet's job is not to write about flowers.  A poet must write about the plight and pain of the people."

I loved the words of this man.  And I must say because I know, the pain of a people so often comes from losing what one loves.  From watching flowers be destroyed.  It is writing of both these things, as well as the fullness and reality of deep pain, and of plight, that is the job of the poet.  To observe, to deeply see, to feel, to transcribe, to be a vessel for the fullness of truth to shoot through you into an audience, or onto a page, so that the stark reality of all we have loved and lost, and how we have, and can, and must miraculously love--and fight for what we love--again can be realized...  and acted upon...  Bringing these realizations to people so they can act, by touching the heart and mind where it is most strong and most tender... That is the job of the poet.  Or at least I know, with what I am doing here and now, that is the job of me.