I was never sure what it meant to write a poem without making it some fun game about rhyming each line. In elementary and middle school poetry assignments I would try to use the weirdest words I could find, then subsequently attempt to rhyme the word orange. I thought I was so clever using the word porridge.  For the longest time I never really took poems seriously. Most classes I’ve been in have asked their students to write an identity poem at some point in the curriculum. I always wrote straight-forward things like “I am a student. / SF is my home.” I thought that to write an identity poem you had to describe yourself point-blank. I wrote like a robot listing its code and orders. I thought maybe if I write like normal and then just break up the sentences weirdly it’ll be a good poem. 

I think the most important thing I’ve taken away from CW is what it means for me to write poetry. I never needed to describe exactly what I was for people to understand who I am. I am a poet, and my identity is imbued into every word I inscribe or type. Now, I write about the rain, skin, and the crum underneath my shoes and that is who I am. Poetry has become me, as if I am melding little bits of myself into the space surrounding me. CW pushed me to look beyond what a poem is, and glimpse at who I want to be. I learned that a poem could be anything, but the poem is always a part of you. I never needed to write an explosion to make an impact.