day 30/30 of #NaPoWriMo

i will not write a goodbye poem.
this is not the end, no. this is not denial, either.

i always thought poetry came so easy to those that were in touch
with their emotions already. i thought it was not for someone who was
unable even to ask for help, make sense of the world, or talk about her feelings.

i thought it was meant for those who had bled their scarce
blessings through, for those whose life came in slippery shreds of
melancholy, for those who turned to poetry as the sole escape to purging.

only halfway through i realised i only thought it was meant
for anybody, everybody – but myself. i do not like being wrong, of course,
but my fifteen poems had altogether a different tale to tell.

the tap, tap, tap of fingers going edit, edit, edit
until i’d had enough, until the words had lost all meaning.
my lessons began with the magic that happens after the first draft
until the realisation that a last one can never feasibly exist.

it is the pursuit of tiny, portable thrills that slowly keep us going
but the bigger picture in life is what gives it, its true meaning
this will pass – like everything else – but it will both continue and return, too
so i’ll ride this wave of emotions out, with the destination stamped
‘somewhere’, at the least.


Last day of #NaPoWriMo. A little bit of phew. A litle bit of yay.

The beginning was hard, & the end is harder. But, is it really the end? This month has helped me make sense of the difficult times we are in. I’ve tried to make light of it, tried to analyse it in all seriousness as well. This has helped me understand myself better, given me a journey into my own deeper self. It has been a journey into other people’s as well, seeing things from different perspectives, and reading drastically varying poetry off the same set of prompts has reinforced my belief in the strength of human consciousness. It has been the one constant thing this month where everyday that we have awoken, we have been greeted with terrible news first. It has helped me navigate the eccentricities of my own mind, sort through the bad and the good feelings, and let go in a healthily controlled manner. Thank you, poetry. And thank you, for reading.

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