Read the poem again.
Read it when you're happy, he said,
when you are hungry, frustrated,
simply waiting for the train,
during breaks and moments made,
while cooking mushroom stroganoff,
doing dishes and after you've put your feet up.
When your eyes start to close,
open them and read it aloud again.
Say it to your friends, your children,

to your love, between conversations,

drinking a cup of coffee, munching on
dark chocolate covered coffee beans.
Whatever it takes, persist,
persist until you memorize it,
until it becomes your heart,
blood flowing through your veins,
effortless as breathing.

Then write a poem.
Write as the sun goes down, when you wake
in the middle of the night, in the morning
when your room is dark purple,
as birds begin to speak and neighbors sleep,
when you're sitting at a restaurant, sipping a mojito,
between scales on the piano.  Write when
you have a quiet moment, at the art institute,
outside during lunch hour, on the train.
Say it to your friends, your children,

to your love, between conversations.

Whatever it takes, persist,
persist until it flows from your heart,
bleeding words onto paper,
effortless as breathing.