On Being an Artist
Saturn seems habitual,
The way it rages in the sky
When we're not looking.
On this note, the trees still sing
To me, and I long for this
Mottled world. Patterns
Of the lamplight on this leather,
The sun, listening.
My brother, my sister,
I was born to tell you certain
Things, even if no one
Really listens. Give it back
To me, as the bird takes up
The whole sky, ruined with
Nightfall. If I can remember
The words in the storm,
I will be well enough to sit
Here with you a little while.
Copyright @ 2014 by Noelle Kocot. Used with permission of the author. This poem appeared in Poem-a-Day on May 16, 2014.
“This poem came from a very deep place where I was at a crossroads about whether or not I should continue making poetry or switch to writing more philosophical writing. I chose poetry because I love it, and it is a gift to be an artist, and I realized I would never want to abandon it. There is so much left to do! I really believe the poetry of the future will be one of deep and abiding joy, and I would love to be a part of this.”
—Noelle Kocot
Noelle Kocot
Noelle Kocot is the author of nine collections, including Ascent of the Mothers (Wave Books, 2023); God’s Green Earth (Wave Books, 2020); and Soul in Space (Wave Books, 2013). Kocot’s poems have been anthologized in Best American Poetry in 2001, 2012, and 2013.
Kocot is the recipient of awards from the National Endowment for the Arts, the Academy of American Poets, The Fund for Poetry, and the American Poetry Review. They were also the recipient of a residency fellowship from the Lannan Foundation.