Now Playing: Welcome to the Black Parade by My Chemical Romance
(or fine, “How Deep is Your Love” if you’re feeling unironically tender—Word Raccoon sees you.)

Subtitle: In which Word Raccoon wears earrings, opens the door, and questions your life philosophy with snacks.

Hi, Word Raccoon here.
Let me start with a poem, one of my most tender ones, even if it doesn’t seem like it. It just showed up one day when something wasn’t sitting right with me and I didn’t know why. Word wrangling always helps with that.

Could I be wrong about this? Maybe.
But I’ve got good instincts and even better snacks, so I’m trusting my gut.

BEFORE THE POEM: HI, DREMA HERE. WORD RACOON ALSO ATE POTATO CHIPS AND A BANANA FOR BREAKFAST, SO KEEP THAT IN MIND. SHE ALSO DRANK COKE ZERO. SHE AND I AGREE ON THAT CHOICE.

ALL IN

You know, it really doesn’t have to be
All in or all out.
I know that’s your mantra,
And I get it.
But let me just whisper
An alternative reading.

Sure, you don’t want to drink a drop from every fountain
Or you’ll always be thirsty
But the thing that remains, that causes you to feel like
You’re breathing deeply in January when you say that?
That’s the thing begging to stay.

Listen, you know your wisdom is my gospel
And you’ve steered me right so many times I
Feel like you’ve fully earned your captain’s badge.
This thing, though?
I’d take another look at it.

Okay. END OF POEM. So that was more “Raccoon With Feelings.”

But the point stands:
Maybe being “all in” isn’t the only way.
Maybe it’s secretly playing it safe.
Maybe it’s keeping you from yourself.

You can’t get all the way in if you never step through the door.
Can’t be a poet because you’re not all in?
But what if you just write one baby poem—
a few lines about that tree bark that wrecked you yesterday like you were 21 again? Or the way the light fell on an ordinary brick wall and made it the Coliseum in miniature.

Sure, someone might call you a dabbler if you do.
But Word Raccoon will fight them in the alley with a glitter pen and a thesaurus.

And really, who is selling this myth anyway?
Who told you creative energy has to come with a résumé and a LinkedIn bio?
Have you never heard of a hobby?
Are you too precious to claim one?

(Secret: it’s not just a hobby, not if it burns in you the way I think it does. And I carry a thermometer in my eyes, so I know. Trust me on this.)

So here’s your blessing, courtesy of Word Raccoon and her bedazzled clipboard:

You don’t have to go all in.
You just have to go honest.
You have to stop piling years onto your gift and thinking it will ever rise on its own.

You don’t need a POET tattoo or for anyone to capitalize it when they attach it to your name. That’s not what poetry needs—you know this. You’ve just allowed yourself to forget.

It needs heat. And your hands. And a few messy tries.

And I’m always here, if you need help getting started.
(Ugh, stop acting all grateful. That’s sloppy.)

Postscript:

There’s a party inside.
The music’s weird. The lights are pink.
The mat says Word Raccoon.

You don’t have to go all in by yourself. We hate that.
I’ll meet you at the door.
Just show up.

But you gotta bring the stanzas.
✨🦝💕