2016 -- 8.2 (Spring) Poetry


By: Megan Finsel


When we’re five they tell us we can be anything.

When we’re eight they tell us we can do anything.

When we’re ten we start exploring our interests, and then they tell us to start being more realistic.

“You’ll never make money like that,” they say with the same lips that encouraged us to try new things.

“Artists starve for a reason.”

“Don’t be like those people.”

“Think logical; pick something that will help you get ahead in life.”

So we study while we doodle in the margins of our textbooks; writing poetry and sketching the Eiffel Tower. “That’s cute,” they say, “now get back to work.”

When we’re eighteen we’re supposed to know what we want out of life, even though we don’t have a clue what we’re doing.

“Don’t worry about it,” they say, “you have plenty of time to figure it out.”

Twenty-five comes around, we’re living on our own in that snug little downtown apartment; not the artist’s loft we’d imagined. Nine-to-five feels like eternity, and office buildings make us nauseous.

“We miss the blue sky,” we say, “We miss poetry, and the Eiffel Tower.”

“Oh don’t worry,” they say, “you’ll figure it out. Remember, you can do anything.”



Writing is my passion. It’s how I connect with the world, and how I share my thoughts, ideas, and feelings. If you want to truly know me more, you need to read my stories because I put a piece of my heart into each one.