how to be a poet?

been thinking a lot about what it means to be a poet right now, in this day in age, as i go to nursing school, as i live in marriage with my husband, as i go to church, as i laugh and as i cry. i don't really know the answer, but i do know that there is a grace that comes over me when i write and when i read and when words spill out of me like i never knew they could. so, i think i will take the next 10 years and try to do it better than i have in the last 10 years. and then, maybe i will emerge with a better understanding of what it means to be alive, what it means to dream, and what it means to write... at least i hope so.

but for the meantime here is my newest one, let me know what you think, i am thinking about sharing it with some people on good friday. need your suggestions.

Of restless nights
And wondering still-
Is this cheap, the water
That runs of my skin
With a dampened sigh?

I want to believe you
Knew. And when you dream
Of us, soft and broken,
But standing, still
You see a wholly plan.

We, who water the
Ground with our tears,
We who dance,
We who are forced
To feel life young.

Sullen ground calls to spring
Out of the earth, something green,
Then I can see,
You are the vine
Wrapping around me.

Question the branch, question
The vine, but don't
Forget to remember everything you've seen.
Tell me, was it ever really love
When you completely understood?

Love you friend.