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  • Sowing Words

    Sowing Words


    “Which is the bliss of solitude;

    And then my heart with pleasure fills,

    And dances with the daffodils.”

    – William Wordsworth

    I have a vague memory of the poem ‘Daffodils’ by William Wordsworth, as one of the first poems which I read in early secondary school. I found the rhythms of words beautiful, stringed in a delicate manner. It was later in school when I wrote my first poem for a school assessment and I was fascinated by my own thoughts pouring out, in the form of a poem. I found my inner self resonating more with the words and the emotions which had always felt ‘too much’ to me as a very young girl, found a home on the last pages of school notebooks, and sometimes on the glittery, colourful notebooks which I kept hidden for special moments. 

    It has been a nine month process to find my voice again, be able to re-turn home and to the reservoir of silence, to pluck the words for poetry and keep a garden of thoughts. I am re-living the memory of gracefully watching the sun come up, from the fifth floor, in the grey London skies and listening to the thoughts as loud as the next door neighbour, moving their sofa chair after midnight. 

    Somehow the isolation of not being known or recognised on a road, or in the library brought in both, feelings of joy to remain hidden, and the desire at some points to hear one’s name by a familiar voice in the foreign land. And maybe, I plough this page with incoherent words as a reminder how we feel like a stranger in the same city sometimes, and how we find a home on an empty page, crumpled with dried flowers from a decade ago. Maybe this time, I find myself holding hands with words tinted with silence, and…

    I wander, digging into my soul

    To find any traces remaining of the words

    To be spilled this time

    On the palm of silence…