Poet Jane Hirshfield said "... the feeling I have about poem-writing (is) that it is always an exploration, of discovering something I didn't already know. Who I am shifts from moment to moment, year to year. What I can perceive does as well. A new poem peers into mystery, into whatever lies just beyond the edge of knowable ground."
I bring a different poem to the writing classes each week, not only to inspire but to introduce new poets to the group members.
Packing for the Future: Instructions by Lorna Crozier
Take the thickest socks. Wherever you're going you'll have to walk. There may be water. There may be stones. There may be high places you cannot go without the hope socks bring you, the way they hold you to the earth. At least one pair must be new, must be as blue as a wish hand-knit by your mother in her sleep. Take a leather satchel, a velvet bag and an old tin box-- a salamander painted on the lid. This is to carry that small thing you cannot leave. Perhaps the key you've kept though it doesn't fit any lock you know, the photograph that keeps you sane, a ball of string to lead you out though you can't walk back into that light. In your bag leave room for sadness, leave room for another language. There may be doors nailed shut. There may be painted windows. There may be signs that warn you to be gone. Take the dream you've been having since you were a child, the one with open fields and the wind sounding. Mistrust no one who offers you water from a well, a songbird's feather, something that's been mended twice. Always travel lighter than the heart.
~ from What the Living Won't Let Go (McClelland & Stewart Inc, 1999)