Softer.

When was the last time I wrote poetry? Probably a few months ago. Even then, it felt somewhat contrived. I didn’t mean every word that I wrote because my only concern was meeting the deadline. I couldn’t bring myself to submit a piece which was stripped of its authenticity despite reading it countless times, in a futile attempt to convince myself that it sounded like me. So I left it.

Today, I managed to manifest the thoughts that have been ricocheting in my mind for the past few months into poetry in a span of a few hours. This poem isn’t anything special though. I don’t think it’s my best work thus far, but it captures the essence of what I’ve been struggling to say. Anyone who knows me really well understands that the only moments I’ve/I’ll resort(ed) to writing poetry is when I’m grappling to return to an emotional or mental equilibrium. Maybe I’ve been denying my truth. Or maybe I’ve changed. Writing is no longer a coping mechanism for me the way it used to be. Now, it’s more of a pastime. Which then begs the question — what is my coping mechanism now?

Here it is. I hope you like it. 🙂

Bloom, even when you want to die 

Because all that you’ve begun to write

Comes out in clumsy sentences. So why 

Is it that you even try?

Bloom, even when you’re looking like a mess

In the mirror as your words spill out just as 

Your tears dry up. The darker it gets, the less 

Everything starts to make sense. 

Bloom, even when your blood freezes over 

As your mind slips away. Too much pressure 

To survive this drift okay. You’re getting closer

To losing your composure. 

Bloom, even when your hands shake

As the realisation hits after each mistake. 

Life moves fast & you’re a little too late,

Feeling like a lightweight.

Please bloom, even when you want to die 

Because the voices in your head.. they lie.

Please bloom, even when you’re looking like a mess

In the mirror. Sometimes, you can lean on me & rest.

Please bloom, even when your blood freezes over. 

Don’t you know diamonds are made under pressure?

Please bloom, even when your hands shake 

You’ll bend but with Him, you’ll never break. 

– Bloom by Ikhmah Roslie