Sunday, May 23, 2010


My favorite english teacher introduced this term to me in the 11th grade. We were reading the book The Great Gatsby, and he told us students that sometimes writers write in order to release feelings that would have otherwise been kept internalized and buried.

I was thinking then that that was obvious and that of course, every writer writes to make their readers feel what they feel and know what they know. However, what I didn't see was that a writer's catharsis has absolutely nothing to do with what a readers feel, but has everything to do with what a writer feel when he's writing.

So this poem, may not make any sense. It might not even read very logically. But the experience writing made me feel lighter about somethings I had on mind.

your Handkerchief

There comes a time when

Words have their end

And even when those words came out

Those very words that speak

Your heart,

They came crashing faster

Then you would have wished

And suddenly you crawl back

Hoping, praying, begging

That they weren’t said.

But they were,

And they are.

They stick like thorns

That don’t belong

And hurt.

That same hurt

You feel when

You’ve lost it all

And all that’s left

Is a soaked handkerchief

That isn’t even yours.

But when those words are

said and spoken,

You'll find, the break

was long made and broken.

Then thrust, and stride

and make anew, revitalize

that broken view

and build again

piece by piece

leave here to then

and look to these:

That those who stayed

are waiting still

their knees that prayed

and hearts that willed

Yes, you are not what

was behind, reach forward

and believe the line

the smallest choices that are made

opens doors to what wrongs forbade.


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