Unwritten Letter
I would write to you,
my trembling hand,
shadowed by years of dust,
but words,
like old leaves in autumn,
do not find their way back.
I remember the night,
when fear was a blanket too heavy,
for young bones to bear,
The world spun with the weight,
And silence,
grew thick around my tongue.
The grief sat with me,
a bird whose wings I could never touch,
you were so far away,
wrapped in soft illusions,
that shattered like glass,
under the weight of truth.
Yet you held on,
didn’t you?
Even as the stars in your sky fell,
you pick them up piece by piece,
So hope could breathe,
and not suffocate.
Would I tell you to let go?
Of the fears that broke you,
like winter cracks old stone?
For every tear you wept,
grew the seed of strength,
I now hold in trembling hands.
So, I write to you now,
not with pity or regret,
but with quiet reverence,
for the person you were,
and the one I have become,
through you.
Let the ink fade,
Let the ache of stillness go,
for we are already past the page,
but know this—
even in the darkest of your days,
you were never alone.
💬 My narration of this poem: https://voca.ro/1JVZTrHIrF3F
@ZenArashi
Awesome, truly awesome. Having the poet read out their work adds an additional layer to it; each subtle inflection building on the emotional tones and making them have even greater impact.
I may be missing the mark, but it felt like it was addressed to your past self? There is something about it that feels very introspective. There is a compassionate air that seems to show an empathy and identification with the subject beyond an attempt at comforting or understanding.
Why I felt that it was the present self looking upon the past self was also due in part to the many thematic images iconic with the passing of time and of loss/passing: "Shadowed by years of dust", "words, like old leaves in Autumn do not find their way back", "The world spun with the weight", "Like Winter cracks old stone". The use of passing seasons adds an ethereal quality which blends so beautifully with other images of fragility and delicateness.
As we who have enjoyed your many excellent works have come to recognise, there is also such great strength and indefatigable hope that always shines through in your work towards the end of the piece. It is gentle, but resolute...never overly bold, but rather a humble statement of potential that leaves the reader feeling that there is still wonder left in the world. That no matter how painful or awful things might be, there is still hope. That we can grow/heal/change/improve.
Your poems give powerful messages with the softest touch. It is a privilege to get to read them and a delight to hear them read.
@BastionKnight
Hi Bastion, thank you so much for such a thoughtful and kind response. Indeed, it’s a letter to my past self and part of the shadow work of addressing my trauma. It means a lot that you noticed the introspective tone and I appreciate the kind comment on my narrated poem.
The way you’ve highlighted the passing of time and the fragility of things really touches me, especially how you mentioned the ethereal quality of those images. Thanks again for your feedback, glad to hear from you again.
Thank you zen
@Georginahowe
You’re welcome. I appreciate you reading my poem, Georgina. 🙏🏼🤍
Thank you Zen
@FuzzySimba
Thank you, Fuzzy for reading my poem, much appreciated. 🙏🏼🤍
@ZenArashi Amazing work. This was so heartfelt and heartwarming that you took the time to write this
@TesonL
Thank you so much, Rik. Your kind words are well appreciated 🙏🏼🤍
As an opened letter smells of ink but yet of pains I seek that your not done writing yet I have the letter and can’t see any words but the one addressed to me on letter head. Are you sure your hands are trembling and it’s not the paper moving around to make room for the gps back to your mailbox. Grief has a smell and it stuck to the paper I am now stuck with do I open it or do I send it back and you finish writing. I can sit next to you blind and still hear your deep breathes as you don’t want to send the shattered glass through this letter words do cut deep. The weight of the letter shows you let go and the pen needs a break before it catches up to what you wrote in your mind not yet on paper.
@Tiablue28
Tia, thank you for offering such a poetic response to my poem. Your words read like a companion piece, mirroring the emotional dissonance between what is said and what is still trembling in silence. I guess, sometimes the pen does need a moment, not because the story is over, but because the weight of what’s felt hasn't yet found its shape in words. Thank you for ya comment.