The Answer

A Prose on Writing Life

Photo by NEOM on Unsplash

I let the poem tell me what it wanted. I let it have its way with me. Maybe I encouraged it? When one has gone into a wishing silence, one doesn’t know what wish will come to fill it.

— D. A. Powell

When you read something and it answers the questions resting in your mind. When the ending leads to a new beginning. The question why a poem and when you don’t know what to answer.

You let the words twirl in your mind like those leaves which drift when the time is right, you keep collecting your thoughts while doing the laundry or scrubbing the utensils after dinner.

You let the words guide like those stars which you see each night trying to map a path for the poet’s eye. You keep listening to the rain as it lashes gently against the window pane thinking it will calm your nerves but instead of that you write a poem instead.

But how can you be quiet when nature itself is always writing a poem for you? How can you close your eyes to dreams or walk away from the splendour of god? Not all can see the magic hidden in the painting which god paints each day and sadly those who can see they can never stay away from it.

So thanks to the poets and artists here and elsewhere who keep inspiring me with their words. When I feel empty I am dazzled by…