This poem will require a little explanation to make sense, just a little story - and since the purpose to poetry is, in at least a minimal way, to make sense, I will share some of the images and thoughts that went into this one's creation.

My father and I are both poets. To be a poet is, to my mind, something which goes beyond profession, training, and other categories. It is a state of being more than a purpose - and a poet has to write, rather than choosing to write. It is as much a necessity of life as breathing, when the need to get thought onto page strikes.

One of the statements that has inspired me, when I am writing about poetry - metapoetry, as it were, verse about the nature of needing to write poetry, is something my father said a while ago, when we were discussing things which we had written. That is: "I write poetry to crystallize my pain." His writing is, for the most part, a catharsis, getting the pain out of his mind and onto a page where it can be seen as a thing of beauty. He once described a poem with "I slit my wrists and bled onto that paper" - an image which I have swiped to use below, as I have used the crystals of pain in the past.

This poem came about, in part, because I was reading another poet's work. Most poetry does not engage much of my mind; it does not have the core of crystal that grabs my attention. This poetry did, and I could not read much of it - I will have to go back to the site and read more of it, once I have managed to break down into comprehension the parts which I already have. I am not used to being so caught by what I read, and so am fascinated. Out of that fascination came the need to write this particular poem.

The final note I need to make is regarding the title - which is not an English word. It is, in fact, ancient Greek - though the word XAIPE persists in modern Greek, with the same meaning. (The word is properly spelled chi alpha iota rho epsilon, or, in the case of the title, chi alpha iota rho epsilon iota nu. The words have been noted in all capital letters, because the Greek capitals correspond to these letters at least in appearance, if not sound. The word 'chairein' - as transliterated - is the infinitive of the verb 'rejoice'. (Pronounced KHAI-rein, with the vowels pronounced in Latinate style, there.) 'Chaire,' which appears in the poem itself, is the command form, and also is the Greek polite greeting.

As a final note - please pardon my scansion; this was written under the influence of a severe migraine headache.