“You know how you meet a girl, and she is funny and bright and an amazing poet, and so she becomes a part of your life in a small way, and then in a big way because you live in awe of her talent and her drive and her energy. And what she can do with words is a gift, a magical storm. And you have heard her perform hundreds of times, but on this one night in Brooklyn, she stands up in a room of poets and leans onto the mic and a celebration of sound comes out of her mouth. And for four minutes you and the entire room sits breathless, and tears stream down your face. And you know that this is a moment you will not forget.
And when she is done she looks at you, and comes over and gives you a hug and you become a hot teary snotty mess because you feel so proud… proud of her, yes, but proud of yourself that you saw wonderment, in the form of a bespectacled, mohawked, Biggie T-shirt wearing, Beyonce-loving, always-doubting herself poet and did not let it pass you by.”
I wrote this in honor of watching Yesha Townsend perform at the Women of the World Poetry Slam last year. One of her poems, The Physiology of Sound won her round.
