I Will Write Again

Wow, it has been a minute. For a while now, I haven’t written anything and it has been so frustrating. Whenever I try to force it, I meet this big block on the way that I can not overpower, no matter how hard I try. It made me sad and angry. I would ask myself, what would you do if eventually, you can’t write again, will you be able to cope, Will you be able to bear the hurt you would feel when you read through your old works and the fact that you can no longer do it strikes you every time? The answer to all those questions was a capital NO!

The art of writing is so special to me, I may not have perfected it but I love doing it, I love how mistakes can turn into that piece that makes your work beautiful and remarkable, I love how there is always a perfect in the imperfections of writing, I love how I can bury complex meanings with simple words, I love the feeling of accomplishment I get when I complete a piece, the gentle swelling of my heart, the warmth that spreads through my body and the colorful butterflies that fly high in my stomach. I even love how I fear and get nervous to put my work out there, afraid of getting criticized, I love how good reviews make me happy and bad ones make me do better, I also love how I tell myself to not care about how people feel about my work but how I feel about.  There is a lot I love about writing and there is a lot more to love. I was going to lose something that makes me so happy, I was going to lose something that made me feel so much love. I worry about how I would fill the emptiness I was starting to feel. Then, I remembered a poem I wrote.

“A MIND OF ITS OWN.

Struck by realization or should I say a beautiful discovery…

I thought I owned you… 

Thought I could control you 

Thought I was your senior

I tried to make you succumb to my wishes

Tried to make you dance to my rhythm

Bend you to my length.

But you have a mind of your own

I realized that you have feelings.

I realized that we are partners 

We are threads closely and tightly intertwined…

You are the voice in my head…

The soft whisper in my ear 

The hand that taps me and I jolt up aching to write.

To write what u whisper in my ears

To communicate your message to the people

Now I know you have a mind of your own

I will wait till you whisper

Go with your ginger 

Move with your trigger

And create with your signal.”

This poem reminded me of something I forgot, I don’t own you, we are partners, I don’t work alone, we work together, you speak in hush voices, and I loud it with words. Realizing this for the second time helped me find inspiration inside the ‘inspirationless’ pit I had fallen into. Another thing I discovered is that writing is not a skill I developed, it is a gift I got from the one who loves me the most. So, as long as I am still his baby girl, no amount of blockage can stop me, I will write again!!!