First poem officially in print

It's not #ThrowbackThursday, but I have something from a few months ago to share. While I was living on Bainbridge Island, I went to the local bookstore, searching around for local poets' writing on the shelves. One of the books I pulled was an assortment of poems that had won the Poetry Corner's Contest sponsored by the Bainbridge Island Arts & Humanity Council.

After buying the book, reading it from cover to cover, I looked the competition up online and found that they celebrated National Poetry Month (April) by publishing the chosen poems, having a live reading, and posting the poems in the windows of businesses on the island for people to read as they passed by by.

The theme for 2015 was "Peace" and when I looked through my poems, I couldn't find anything that directly related to that topic. I tend to write about challenges and moments of dramatic impact. Even though nothing seemed to fit the theme, I submitted three poems, not expecting anything except a rejection letter.

Forgetting that I had even submitted the poems, I logged into my email one day at YES! and read the word "congratulations" and my stomach sunk. I had never been published before, and when I saw which poem had won, I got a little nervous.

The poem that they chose is called "Bruises, Blood, Dust" and it follows a mother and daughter struggling in an abusive home. The reason my stomach was in knots when I saw this poem had won was because many people write from their personal experiences and sometimes I do too, but the scenario in the poem is far from anything I've ever experienced. 

I can't remember what sparked this poem, but I can still clearly see the image of the home I created in my mind and distress that ran through my veins as I described what the characters were going through. All I know is I felt the need to write about this topic.

Although I was unable to attend the live reading from the poetry collection, I did order a copy of the book -- my first published poem. Kind of exciting.

My poem was displayed at the Bainbridge Island library

Published in print. So crazy.

Bruises, Blood, Dust

             by Kayla Schultz

It sounds like a band, drumming

to the beat of skin against skin,

bone against flesh. The thump, thump

thumping of her falling to the dirty kitchen tile,

scrubbed weekly, never clean.

she is inhaling, exhaling calmly,

walking away with dry cheeks, purpled

the color of grape lollipops.

Sticky red dribbling from her nose,

tickling like strawberry juice running

down swollen cheeks. Her daughter’s

tiny arm clings to Raggedy Anne,

healed with hand-sewn patches

in the shape of hearts to cover the gashes.

Rising from the tile, mother and daughter

walk hand in hand out the screen door,

You’ll never get away with this, he yells,

pounding his fists against the porch railing,

watching dust from the dirt road

envelop them until they disappear. 

Wisdom comes from those who take risks

The skies were dark with rain clouds today, making it feel like 6 p.m. when it was only 3. My day had been chaotic when a vibrant spirit walked into the lobby of my newest place of work. This greying woman had wet droplets on her jacket from the rain and the smell of blooming lilacs wafted in behind her as she approached me at the front desk. Many of you probably don’t know, but I am back in Michigan for the summer working at the American Youth Foundation Miniwanca, a camp on the shore of Lake Michigan. My primary duty at the camp is to help run seasonal staffing and this woman had come to sign in as a part of the medical team.

After gathering a stack of paperwork for her to fill out, we moved to comfy leather chairs, and as she began to write, I started to make small talk. She told me she loved the rain and could easily live in Seattle. I told her I had just gotten back from Seattle and that I also loved the rain. She told me about the last few years she worked on the medical team at Camp Miniwanca, talking about how excited she was to again be part of a dynamic duo in East Camp.

Wrinkles grew deep as she smiled telling me stories from her time in Hawaii – her home for over a decade. She moved back to Michigan just two years ago with no car or apartment, just stayed at her sister’s house for a few days before voyaging over to Miniwanca for the summer with no previous work in camps and not knowing what to expect.

With each new detail from her life, I was more amazed by this woman in front of me. Before knowing anything about her life, I had stereotyped her. This 70-something year-old woman expanded and inspired me, but it was one simple phrase that resonated with me – “I like change. I enjoy being adventurous.” It was more than just the phrase though, it was a combination of how her voice lowered, her eyes lit up, how her age had not dampened her energy and spirit for doing what excited her. And also that she seemed to be voyaging on this journey of life solo. She was a strong woman that talked with vigor and life and in that moment, I was jealous of her vivacity.

I’ve been making changes to my life and thinking a lot about what I want my future to be. I have to admit, it can change depending on what I’m reading, hearing and learning. But when it comes down to it, there are a few things that I feel are building blocks to my happiness: travel, poetry, art, writing, and adventure. I have goals to see new parts of the world, experience new cultures, and read as much poetry as I can. If I had it my way, I’d travel around the world, reading local poets’ work, interviewing them and finding out what makes them write such beautiful lines. Is this what my future holds? I don’t know, but it’s fun to think about.

We’ll see where my passions take me, but it is nice to be reminded that life isn’t about doing the 9-5 grind, but creating a life that sustains that passionate, happy, vibrant feeling throughout the entirety of your life. 

"And to love life through labour is to be intimate with life's inmost secret." -Kahlil Gibran