“O Solitude! If I must with thee dwell, Let it not be among the jumbled heap of murky buildings.” ~ John Keats
I will admit, for me, writing poetry is difficult. It is such an emotional form of writing; it contains, conveys and escapes emotion all at the same time.
This means I do not wake up early in the mornings, sit at my desk, rub palms of my hands together with glee, and think now I’m going to write a poem. It doesn’t happen, it never happens, and how great it would be to achieve this one day! Because great writers or accomplished artists do not wait for inspiration, right?
Well, I do not wait for inspiration but I’m no great writer. I rely on empathy. In order for me to capture a moment, emotion or whatever else makes a poem, I have to feel deeply. And there’s a lot (beautiful and ugly) to feel in the world we live in. It is this build-up of emotion that eventually leads me to write with urgency. The reward – a release, whether significant or subtle, makes it all worth it.
I’m sure you reckon that this feeling / empathy / emotion / release, delights and liberates yet exhausts. And so, when it all becomes too much, I seek solitude. Not so much to shut down the noise but to listen to my inner voice.
Note: Thank you all who read me (whilst I took time out to breathe) for your understanding, support and kind comments. Much appreciated.
Sanaa Rizvi at Prompt Nights expresses this thought successfully “Rest is the sweet sauce of labour.”