Talking with a friend today about this lady we know of who recently took her life. I asked what she did for a living because some careers have a high suicide rate. He didn’t know, but asked me if I’d looked her up on Facebook. I hadn’t.

“She looks….kinda…different. Like a writer. You know?”

I thought immediately of my hair, springing out all over my head in 16 million directions. I thought of my eyeliner, that I’ve never managed to conquer, and even if it looks decent when I leave the house manages to be smudged by the time I get to work. I thought of my glasses, that are perpetually spotted from who knows what. I thought of my clothes, how some days my pants are dragging the ground or my socks are inside out or I’ve wound up wearing two different shoes. Or earrings.

“Yes, I know,” I replied dryly, flipping my hand to indicate my current appearance. “WAS she a writer?”

“Well, no,” he backpedaled. “Well, I don’t think so. But, like, she just looked…I can’t put it in words.”

“Unkept?”

“No. Just…plain, I guess. Maybe homely.”

“Was she a poet?”

“No, I don’t think so.”

“Because poets are tortured, you know.”

He nods like he understands, but I can tell he doesn’t.

“I feel sorry for poets. They have these beautiful words in their minds…but they’re misunderstood. People don’t GET them,” I tried to explain. “For instance, I can write a story. People will read it & they can visualize what I’m talking about. Poems have hidden meanings. It’s not hidden to the poet, they want to tell it, but people miss the point. They want it to mean something else. It would be awful being a poet, having everything trapped inside of you. Wanting to share it, but frustrated because nobody takes the time to listen. Poets are truly tortured souls. No wonder they die young.”

You think about it. How many of you sit down & read poetry as regularly as you read literature? I know I don’t. It takes too long to read, let alone decipher, & then when I bother researching what it’s actually about, I’m wrong. Anyway. Just thought this was worth thinking about. If you know a poet, maybe take them out for coffee or tea or something. They could probably use something tangible that is vibrant & happy. Like flowers. Or a handmade mug. I don’t know. I’m just a rambling writer.