Essays, Art and Plays by Dan

Writing poetry—it didn’t come naturally at first. I remember sitting with a blank page in front of me, feeling like it was mocking me somehow. What did I have to say?

But eventually, I realized the page wasn’t waiting for grand ideas. It was waiting for truth. And that’s the thing about poetry—it has a way of stripping everything down to its essence.

It taught me how to see, truly see. I used to rush through life, distracted, like so many of us do. But when you start writing poetry, you’re forced to slow down.

You begin to notice the details you’ve always overlooked—the way the light falls across the room at dawn, the rhythm of footsteps on pavement, or the sadness hidden in someone’s smile.

It’s like life becomes this collection of moments, some ordinary, some painful, but each one with its own kind of beauty.

Poetry also made me face my fears, my pain, my joys. And somehow, by putting them into words, I began to make sense of them.

Poetry is intimate. It’s revealing, even when you don’t want it to be. And yet, in that vulnerability, I found connection—both with myself and with others.

Now, when I look back, I see how far I’ve come. I’ve learned that writing isn’t just about putting words on paper—it’s about discovering who you are, piece by piece.

Poetry became my mirror, reflecting not just what I wanted to see, but what I needed to see. The good, the bad, the beautiful, the ugly. All of it.

So, yes, poetry transformed me. It taught me how to observe the world with new eyes, and how to find meaning in even the smallest things.

I’m not the same person I was when I started. And, for that, I’m grateful.