poetry is devotion

poetry is devotion.
or was it…
poetry as devotion.

when i woke up, the phrase was already there as if it had been waiting for me.

and the first thing my mind did was try to shape it into something familiar.

something neat.
something that rhymes.
something that makes sense.

as if devotion needs structure.
and as if truth needs to be polished.

but i’m learning that poetry was always more than a rhyme.
it is about attention.

the kind that lingers.
the kind that listens.
the kind that stays long enough
for something unseen to reveal itself.

i’ve always viewed poetry as something written.
lines broken into stanzas
romantic, expressive, beautiful.

but what if poetry isn’t just what we write,
but how we move.

and maybe that’s closer to devotion than we think.

not performance.
not ritual for the sake of being seen.
not the perfectly spoken word.

but the act of staying present with what is here.

the way you slice fruit in the morning.
the way you drink your tea without picking up your phone.
the way you brush your teeth while rooting your feet into the earth.
the way you look into someone’s eyes.
the way you pause before responding.
the way you move your body to create space.
the way you listen without needing to speak.
the way you hold a hug for just a moment longer.
the way your breath deepens when you finally let something land.
the way your body knows before your mind does.
the way you hold someone long enough for them to see themselves more clearly.
the way you offer a compliment without expectation.
the way you notice the tension in your shoulders and soften instead of pushing through.
the way you tell the truth even when your voice shakes.
the way you choose rest when everything in you has been taught to keep going.
the way someone plays an instrument and you can feel that they’re not just hitting notes but they’re inside of them.
the way someone speaks, and you can feel the truth moving through their body before the words even land.

this is poetry.
poetry is devotion.
poetry as devotion.

poetry is the moment you choose not to rush.
poetry is the moment everything is asking to be witnessed.
poetry is art.

and art is not separate from life.

it is life, expressed.

it is what happens when something internal
meets the external world
and is allowed to take form.

art is expression.
and expression is creation.

not necessarily in the sense of making something new,
but in the sense of allowing something that already exists
to move through you.

and creation requires presence.

because you cannot shape what you are unwilling to feel,
and you cannot express what you are unwilling to see.

presence is consciousness.

not as an idea,
but as an embodied state.

the awareness that you are here…
in this body.
in this moment.
in this breath.

and this is where devotion lands.

not in the abstract
but in the earthly.

devotion is tending to your body
as if it is not separate from you,
but the very place you come home to.

we are inherently devoted beings.

you see it everywhere.

plants turning towards the sun.
the tide returning to the shore.
roots reaching for water beneath the surface.
leaves falling when it’s time to let go.
a flower opening even after the rain.
the sky shifting colors without effort.
morning light finding its way through the window.
your breath continuing without your permission.
your heart beating while you sleep.
your hand reaching out for someone you love.
your body turning towards warmth.
silence settling after sound.

life is devoted to itself.

but somewhere along the way, we learned to leave.

to disconnect.
to override.
to perform.

and devotion became something we thought we had to practice,
instead of something we return to.

so maybe poetry is devotion.

because poetry asks you to stay.

with a feeling.
with a moment.
with a truth that hasn’t fully formed yet.

and maybe devotion is poetry.

because it is the act of witnessing your life as it is
without rushing to make it something else.

so the question becomes…
not how do i write poetry,
but how do i live in devotion to what’s already here?

it’s not passive.
it’s not just reverence.

it’s participation.

it’s the willingness to meet yourself
at the edges of your expansion
both outward and inward
at the same time.