A while ago, I was given an anthology of poetry entitled “I Feel a Little Jumpy Around You,” edited by Naomi Shihab Nye and Paul B. Janeczko. I remember flipping through it briefly and then placing it on my shelf, where it sat for quite a few years (sorry to whoever gave it to me). Because of the cover, which has a drawing of two newlyweds dancing off a tiered cake, I thought it was a volume of love poetry… and I wasn’t particularly interested in reading love poetry at that moment in my life.

Picking it up today, I was pleasantly surprised by the little bit that I have managed to consume. “A Little Jumpy” is an intriguing volume in which the editors  grouped poems into pairs to illustrate the similar as well as dissimilar ways that men and woman view the same topics.  The title seems to suggest that the topic is mostly romantic love, but that is not the case. The first section, “Heads on Fire” contains poems about family relationships. The second, “Foreign Exchange,” is about the beginnings of adolescence and figuring our romantic relationships. The third, “The Real Names of Everything” seems to be poems discussing the everyday life of adults who have found more settled, solid lives. And lastly, “Separate Longings”is about, well, longings.

In other words, the anthology is about life.

Poetry is difficult. Quite a few people don’t like it. Quite a few people don’t understand it. I stand in an in between place. I don’t hate it… but it is certainly not my favorite. In middle school, I wrote quite a lot of poetry. And then I realized that prose fits me better.

Flash forward to college and adulthood, where I’m starting to encounter events and issues that I  have not dealt with before. I am still attached to prose, but I have found myself writing poetry in my journal or sometimes in class. These poems are different than the ones from my past. Not only are they usually better (in my estimation), but they are written about my hardest issues. Therefore, they are extremely private. I have no trouble sharing most of my prose, but no one has seen any of these intensely personal poems.

I imagine that the poems included in the anthology are as personal for the author’s as mine are for me. It is amazing that they were able to share them with the public. Maybe I’ll be able to do that one day.

I’ll end with sharing one of my favorite poems of the collection:

“Travelling Together” by W.S. Merwin

If we are separated I will

try to wait for you

on your side of things

your side of the wall and the water

and of the light moving at its own speed

even on leaves that we have seen

I will wait on one side

while a side is there.