Poem-A-Week

I consider my thoughts my greatest strength. They keep me up at night, make me anxious,

but also make me realize I am not the person I was yesterday.

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Sometimes my thoughts are like rains on a summer afternoon which make no sense. Other times they are the ocean that generates tide after tide that come crashing onto the shore as if it were only natural.

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Sometimes a high tide sometimes a low tide but mostly a tsunami.

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These waves bring with them words, words in all languages I know and, in all combinations.

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As these waves recede, they deposit a few of them on the beach and keep the rest with them for some other day. I often sit there waiting and collecting whatever I find like a little girl collecting seashells on the beach.

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I carefully lay them out arranging them in different combinations desperately trying to make  sense out of them. I somehow weave a sentence with these mostly gray words. One sentence follows another and before I know it, I have a very long verse of unflattering words that talk about nothing. That is the reason I write.

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I write to make sense of my thoughts like untangling different colour threads from a lump of wool.

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I write to fill the void in me.

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I write as evidence for a life lived and feelings felt.

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I write because the violin strings ask me how I feel.

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I write because I have so much to unlearn.

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I write because something as faint as a smell or sound can stir emotions inside me.

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I write because the pen is the only weapon I know how to wield.

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I write because I dream

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I write because I feel

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I write because I love

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I write for the fun of it

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I write because I can

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I write because it is a wonder to me that there are millions of languages and billions of words and yet every piece of writing, however unremarkable it might be, is still original. Still

unique.

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In the very vast ocean of writing this too will get lost but will find its shore someday.

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I can write more but I see another wave approaching.