I have been contemplating writing poetic prose for a really long time, now. I think that this is something which can combine my love for poetry, as well as prose, in a way that it remains true to both. This particular piece is something personal to me, that I wrote on a whim, today. I thought it was too good to not share.
I hope you enjoy reading this. Xx
“Words don’t come easily to me.
I’ve been told by faces, familiar and unfamiliar alike, that it must be so easy for me to put my thoughts out there. But I only feel like an impostor taking on the title of a writer.
Writing, they all think, is about putting my thoughts out there, as they are. But it is also about so much more. It’s about burying chests of treasure beneath blossoming meadows, and hoping that someone might be brave enough to seek. That someone might be willing to go further than just the surface and not take my words as they are– that is what it means to write.
And so, words don’t come easily to me.
I have trouble telling people how much they mean to me. I choose to remedy that by writing poetry, filled with metaphors that hide my emotions as though they are something to be looked for in the dense forests of my thoughts. I write them all down in letters never sent and silently hope that my actions speak louder than my words for them.
Because words have never come easily to me.
I express my gratitude by being loud and obnoxious about any amount of kindness I have been shown. I know no other way to express what joy it brings me to be known by someone, enough for them to know how to bring me joy. I know that when the time comes, I would do the same for them. I also know that I would never be able to put my full extent of emotions in words to tell them what their gestures mean to me.
I don’t speak in words that come easily to me.
Someday, I shall express my emotions to those that matter, in words far richer than I have been able to muster. Perhaps I’d let my friends know how it comforts me that they are looking for peace amidst storms. Perhaps I’ll tell my family all the things I don’t say, but should. Perhaps I’ll send out the letters that I have contemplated burning to ashes.
But I fear that would be the day I can no longer hide in the shadows of my metaphors, or lurk in the depths of emotions that I am drowning in. I fear I would no longer be able to write my love off as the magnetic pull of the moon to the tides.
Perhaps it is a blessing that words don’t come so easily to me. Because some emotions are meant to be hidden in the deep.”
~© Shubhangi Srinivasan.