Why Poetry?

Poets are the fools among us.
They're the fools dressed up in some fancy attire, oozing with complexity, melancholy and barren of punctuation. They're the musicians of the art of speaking, they are the melody in the no-melody, they are the sad clowns, the melancholic introverts, the lovers of the language of the soul.
But really - they are the fools among us.
And being a true fool is a rebellious act of bravery.
Why brave? Because other than bearing their souls in the punctuation-less, raw, exposed art of language, poets have to face judgments from the emotion guards of the world; the ones who roll their eyes on anything too 'sappy', the ones who are sarcastic, cynical, dry, too good for poetry. The ones who simply don't get it. And don't we all rather guard our feelings and not 'get it' every once in a while? Yes, yes we all do sometimes.
But other times, when we are alone after a break up, or dealing with a tragic loss of a loved one, or experiencing life at its most fragile or most epic: we seek the words to express the times. We seek the language of the soul. We seek poetry. And poets are always there, in the shadows, waiting for the spot light to shine on them.
That's is the true gift of the fool: to be there for the moments when they are needed the most. The real moments. The private moments. The moments that brings us closer to our souls. To be there despite the laughs. To be there knowing that behind the laugh, the judgment, the eye roll - there is a soul longing to be heard. There is a human being aching to feel. There is connection waiting to happen.