Shadows hovered over me and sadness threatened to consume me, I found healing in a place least expected, poetry. It was an escape, pulled me from the darkest of places, guided me towards the light that’s apparently at the end of the tunnel, a light I forgot even existed. A heavier struggle with every passing day, and the battles I fought weren’t visible to the naked eye. I felt alone, misunderstood, just drowning in a pool of tears, finding it almost impossible to make it out in time.
One fateful day, I gave my hand a try at writing poetry. At first, my verses followed each other awkwardly, not making perfect sense yet still very therapeutic. With each piece of writing, I felt a sense of belonging. My worries quickly turned to inspiration, I found myself getting better with every passing day. Gradually writing became a source of happiness, a walk in the park where my thoughts were free to galavant. The more I wrote, the more it registered with me that poetry wasn’t just a a way of expressing myself but a way of escaping reality with carefully scripted words. As my pen scribbled through pages, discovering the power of words, they soon became my ‘safe space’. This was a newly found place where I could voice out my struggles and burdens, my regrets, hopes and dreams without the fear of judgment, my confidant just silently listening to the ink and the tearing and scrunching up of papers. The more I picked up my pen to write, the more I dredged up parts of myself that had been long concealed. So therapeutic that it allowed for me to come face to face with the ghosts of my past and turn my traumas into something worthwhile.
In the gloomiest hours of the night, when sleep wouldn’t locate me, I turned to my journal, the words soothing my soul. I was given a reason to keep on keeping on not paying mind to the things dragging me down. It grew into my ally on lazy days and sound nights. There’s joy in a well written verse which is why my collection of poems grew, it was a never ending journey of self-discovery, a trail leading me back to myself. As I looked back in the pages of my journal, I came to realize that writing had saved my life. It had been my anchor to the ground the words I had down were a declaration that there is indeed a light, a bright light at the end of a tunnel. Poetry feels like a hug, in it I found healing moving me further away from the darkness that threatened to consume me which was replaced by an obnoxious amount of self love and awareness.
Today, as I stand tall, taking in every single chapter in my life with a grateful heart, I bring along with me the ‘aha moments’ from the therapeutic simultaneous sound of pen and paper. Writing poetry not only saved my life but changed it. It has taught me that even in the darkest moments, there’s always something to look forward to. But that’s just me, ya’ll be safe though.
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