WHAT IS POETRY?
By Marcia Knapp Krech
I often asked my Dad this question
His answer was another poem
As clear as mud
So I scrubbed the mud away and
Looked with a clearer eye
And this is what I saw
“Watching the flak bursts around
Our flying fortress
So thick you could walk on it
Jumping from burst to burst
At 35,000 feet”
This image took root in me
I kept seeing my WWII navigator father
Jumping across a sky of German flak bursts
My architect/artist father
Was telling me
Poetry is using words as paint
So the reader can see the world
You have created in their own mind
Later in this same poem
I read about my mother running toward my father
In the Harrisburg railroad station
Finally reunited after three years apart
This image of my mother springing
Into my father’s arms
Shows me what poetry is
Painting pictures with words
And inviting the reader to feel the emotions
They surely must have felt as they kissed
And kissed and started their life
Finally reunited
I see it all now, Dad
And I feel it too
