Posted by: agapeflower | August 27, 2009

Poem: Fan Letter

Below is a poem I wrote for the band Jars of Clay.  I know.  I’m a 29 year old married woman, and fan letters are for teenybopper kids or creepy stalker-types who cut out pictures of their favorite actors or whatever and put them up on their wall and kiss them goodnight or wave hello each morning.  I’m not that, I promise.  I had their self-titled on in the car this week, was happy about it, and wrote a poem to them because my mind’s too all over the place for a formal letter, and I wanted to let them know how much I appreciate their work.   Plus, I’m a poet.  So it’s not much of a surprise.  Unless you didn’t know I wrote poetry.  If that’s the case…surprise!

So you can make fun of me if you like, but hey – karma, man.  If you get famous one day, you’ll want poets to write about you too.  Unless you don’t like poetry.  But then it’ll definitely be karma, becuase you’ll be getting things you don’t like. And besides, this poem isn’t even for you, it’s for Jars of Clay.

Whatever.  I’m done!

On to the poem:

Fan Letter

How to not sound creepy:
just say “Hey, I’m a fan.”
Which is true, but not enough.

(Not in the creepy way, though,
you understand – not the
brick-through-the-window way,
the making murals and standing shrines way)

But in the way that said I was having
such a bad day, the kind that feels like two bad years
sitting on each other’s shoulders
and the product of your minds meeting,
the jam sessions, the rides to the studio
and those moments of thinking as you picked your kids up from school, maybe, or waited in line at a supermarket
when you thought hey! I should write that line down,
it’s a keeper,

the product of those moments
brought a smile to my face,
reminded me that God has a rhythm to Him too,
and His plan for me might involve loving me
a fraction of the amount He loved me to start with.

And if you’re having a bad day,
the kind that feels like two bad years sitting on each other’s shoulders
(or even if it’s a good day, the best in the world,
the kind of day that shines like a million suns strung on a necklace
of love and gratitude),
remember that something you created
made someone in a faraway land
that you’ll probably never meet
for what seemed like a very long time.


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