I asked my soul last night,
“What happens to you if you don’t write?”
My soul was in deep thought
I said again, “Answer me…
Pardon me!
I asked if you don’t write,
what will happen?”
My soul’s eyes were full of tears.
She sat in front of me and said,
“I can’t imagine what will happen
but I can understand when I don’t write
I am like a dry river.
Fishes say goodbye.
I am like a thirsty tree waiting for water in a desert —
I am like an orphan child searching love of parents —
I am like a broken lover —
I am like a blasted Kabul street full of blood.
“When I can’t write,
It is hard to say —
but it is my only identity.
I can’t stop writing because
when I can’t talk —
when I am very alone, I am not alone.
With my writings I write about
things I can’t talk about.
When I write
I feel fresh
I wear my favorite dress of my desires,
sit under the tree of my thoughts
and I write and write.
“I stop?
Maybe
when I am not able to breathe.
When…”
By Roya
photo by Julio Saguar
Dear Roya,
What a beautiful poem!
“When I write
I feel fresh
I wear my favorite dress of my desires,
sit under the tree of my thoughts
and I write and write.”
This deep seated urge in all of us to express ourselves and how suffocating it is when our expression is repressed by external or internal factors.
I wish you all the best in life. May you keep writing and expressing yourself. And may we be fortunate enough to read your words and in that process, make these words part of our lives.
Regards,
KC
Yes, this is a beautiful poem. It was sent to me by a friend who is himself a writer. He recently wrote to me that if he didn’t write he would explode. Not all writers will have their books, essays, poems and profiles celebrated, but all writers share the same sense of the wonder of the word expressed here. Thank you.
Be always well,
James R. Fisher, Jr., Ph.D.
This is beautiful. It expresses feelings that many writers share — me included. Your use of language is exquisite!
I love how you wear your writing and find the solace, “sit under the tree of my thoughts”. Beautiful piece; you are an inspiration. Bless.
Roya, thank you. Axel told me about you. I am also a writer, but not of such beautiful poetry. Blessings to you, and safety. I hold you in the Light.
This perfectly captures how I feel about writing. I’m so glad I read it. Thank you!
Lovely poem, Roya. I think every writer feels most like herself/himself when writing–we’re all “broken lovers” without it. Thank you!
Thank you for your beautiful words.
I wish for you a haven for you to create in.
Looking forward to reading more.
Roya,
Wow! What an amazing poem! “…when I don’t write/ I am like a dry river./ Fishes say goodbye.” These are poignant lines. The poem reminds me a bit of some of Emily Dickinson, one of the most talented American poets. Your images are exquisite. I loved reading this poem and look forward to more.
Really lovely, Roya. This series of lines in particular:
When I write
I feel fresh
I wear my favorite dress of my desires,
sit under the tree of my thoughts
and I write and write.
This is so true…Rilke famously said “Don’t become a writer unless you HAVE to”, and you are obviously a true writer… One writes, oblivious of immediate audience. One writes for the universe, for the Akashic records (the universal memory), and as one writes or paints or sculpts or composes music or weaves it vibrates far beyond the individual creator.
This poem is one so many writers can relate to. I like the comparisons of how you feel when you cannot write and I share them. thank you for your beautiful words.
Writing is to pour a little of ourselves on the paper so that we can look at ourselves and reorganize the mess inside.
Beautiful words, Roya.
Best wishes,
Renata, from Brazil