Solstice: A Collection

Part 1: An Exploration

Preface 

Someone once asked me what the purpose of my poetry was.

After a lengthy process of trying to answer that question in essay form, I realized that I couldn't articulate the purpose I believed my poetry held. It was a depressing thought. Poets are already facing the daunting reality that poetry, in its traditional form, is a very underappreciated literary form--tended either by poets themselves, the rare literary fanatic or the small portion of the academic elite who love to study it like an organism under a laboratory light. My failure at finding a purpose from my own poetry scared me so much that I nearly ran away from the art. It was only after a while that I realized that there was nothing wrong with my process of creation. The question itself was inherently flawed.

Poetry was never meant to have a purpose, especially one independent of my own self expression. I had to come to the realization none of what I write is defined by what it achieves. Rather, the connection with other people formed through the art is a result that only enhances the beauty of what we all create as poets. This has recently became important when the accessibility of my work was discussed by those around me. As a bilingual writer, I find myself torn between full self expression and complete understanding. However, as a wise person once told me, I shouldn't have to explain things to my readers. In this section, I lean slightly away from giving too much away . My motive was never for my reader to understand but rather to go on a journey with me. And if that journey is simply through an appreciation of language and a confrontation of the foreign then I am satisfied. So, to anyway starting to read this, I ask that you set aside the need to understand anything completely and rather attempt to experience the poetry I humbly share.

Acknowledgements

I have infinite thanks for all the people in my life who have supported my writing journey. To my parents, who always patiently listened to the nursery rhymes I read and the contemporary poetry I recited in a language that was not your own yet you appreciated all the same. To my sister, who always treated me like the author I strove to become. To Love, who's words of encouragement, criticism and feedback made be the writer I am today and who's own love for the art inspires me day by day. To Hon, who never shied away from listening and appreciating the art out of your love for a friend. To Ms. V, who gave me an appreciation for the historical forms of poetry to manipulate in my own time. To Mr. D, who's rare words of praise gave me the courage to brave the world of literature as a writer. To Abra, who encouraged me to break the bounds of conventional poetry to find my voice. To everyone who has read, listened to and supported my work, I would have never made it without you. Thank you. Egziabeher Yistilign.