I was never good at it and never dwelled on it up until I was in college.
My cousin died of cancer at the age of 20. He was a second year nursing student back then, and he used to write beautiful poetry. He wrote about his classes, his experiences, even his sickness. He wrote about leukemia and how it managed to consume his body as time passed on.
I went to the same school he was in, and i didn’t really expect that poetry would become my medium after writing prose in elementary and high school. But I guess, it stuck because it was something that reminded me of him. It was something that I could say we had in common. It was… Kuya’s thing.
I’ve written almost 50 poems in the past five years, about love, lost, longing, school and whatnot. I don’t really let a lot of people read it because some are too personal. But isn’t it what writing is all about? Conveying an emotion, telling a story, exposing your roots?