Please Write About the Hard Things

write about the hard things.
about the war that’s waging within mothers
and mother lands. about tears that were shed
in refugee camps. about living on the cusp of
constant death. about learning. unlearning.
about moments that came once and then
gone too soon. hoping. yearning.
flowers that don’t bloom. dreams that don’t
make it past sleep. plans that don’t make it through.
bones. broken homes. unturned stones. love
that doesn’t feel like love. trying to put your head
up above the water. don’t just write
about the weather. or how the sunlight
makes you sneeze, or the languid way
the clouds part for you. or how monday isn’t
your most favourite day of the week. don’t even
attempt to write a love poem. no one needs to know
how love drowns you in an ocean. don’t use
grand metaphors to explain how insufficient
it is you love. your sappy sentiments,
your vapid romance. no life is changed from it.
from starstruck lovers with foolish intent,
only ending up hurting yourself and the other –
we don’t need another toxic romeo & juliet
obsession. so here is my confession:
write what hurts you, what heals you, from within
and without. there’s already too much spilled ink
vacillating between love songs and self-indulgent
ventures and first world problems poeticised
in frivolous breaks. but the world
is still breaking. still stuck between waking and sleeping. and these words aren’t used enough.
we could wake up every day, to appreciate
the blue sky for what it is and let gratitude
kiss our tongues while our minds never stop thinking
about those whose only sight upon waking
is the caress of dust, bombs, guns waiting
for the other shoe to drop. it is not easy
for you will carry an insurmountable weight.
but the weight is only to lighten.
we owe the world our words in gold.
do the hard work
of putting wordless emotions into words
and write. please write.
write about the hard things.