Hn, it seems inspiration comes from unusual places. I'm working on something that I need to hand in for a contest we were doing in Christian Life about genocide in Darfur. I'm late as usual, but this time with no inspiration and no clue what to do. Anyone who knows me can tell you that I'm a huge advocate for Darfur, and I don't take stuff like this very lightly. I couldn't just write a poem in homeroom and hand it in; this meant something more to me.

So here I am, Sunday night, and last minute panic starts to set in. I can't believe I haven't even started working on it over the break. After a nearly two-hour meltdown, I finally come out of hiding from my bedroom. I stare at the blank computer screen, willing myself to write.

I still didn't know what to write about. Another classmate's completely amazing poem was still in my head and I just couldn't get past that. I knew I couldn't, in a million years, write a poem like that. I tried to think about how I felt about Darfur, but that wasn't helping me at all. But then I realized that when I'm good and pissed off, I can go for a long, long, long time. Those of you who have read my blogs c.10th grade know what I'm talking about. So what got me good and pissed off about Darfur?

The fact that it was just being ignored.

It reminded me of something Duane Keogh of The Town Pants (TTP= Love) said at the Irish Festival this year, trying to get people to sing: "It doesn't have to be perfect, it just has to be loud."

So I decided that the poem didn't have to be perfect, it just had to get its point across. And its point? Simply to shut up, listen, and speak. It doesn't matter how good or bad you are at it. As long as it's heard.