A Poetic Conversation

A few days back I wrote a poem titled We Write. One of my friends and fellow blogger, Bano who is an amazing writer wrote me a poetic reply. That turned out to be a beautiful unintended collaboration.

(The text in italics below is her replies to the lines.)

We write about the whispers of the soul

But do you ever ink down the echoes that resonate in your spirit?

When it calls out in the dead of the night

But do you ever respond to them or just lay quiet?

We write about our darkest secrets in the brightest colors

But do you write about white chalk screeching against a black board?

We write about our haunting obsessions

But do you talk about the stillness that lingers in your desires?

We write about our unsung sonnets and unheard melodies

But do you write about the first time you saw her and your heart skipped a beat?

We write about our unfinished stories and broken sentences

But do you write about the doors you’ve closed and the spaces never to be filled, again?

We write about the echoing silence

But do you write about the violent screams your heart makes against your ribcage?

All the words that weren’t said

But do you think it is sufficient for what has been said?

We write about the crayons we lost and the colors that faded

But do you write about the favorite broken crayon you’ve still kept?

We write about the toys that we got

That we did not need anymore

But do you write about the ones that you never got but crave still, now?

We write about the dancing demons

Do you write about wicked angels and the games fate plays?

We write about muffled sobs and suppressed screams

But do you write about loud laughter laced with melancholy?

We write about streaming tears and the lump in the throat

But do you write about hollow eyes and charred throats?

We write about the raging storms and burning desires

But do you write about catastrophic hurricanes followed by blissful rains?

 

We write about the excruciating agonies and personal hells

But do you write about ecstatic pleasure and limited heaven?

 

We write about the butterflies painting out souls

But do you write about dead caterpillars who never bloomed?

We write about the meaning concealed in the dots

At the end of sentences

But do you write about the silence shared in between of the words said?

We write about voids and spaces

The grey emptiness that craves to be filled

But do you write about clusters and colorfully filled cracks on pavements?

We write about the black holes and whirlpools

Some people can be

But do you write about cosmic energy and constellations, that some people possess?

We write about our deepest pains in the sweetest words

But do you write about memorable pleasures in bitter sentences?

 

We write about the dreams we sell

And then ourselves abandon

But do you write about the dreams you never showed the world

And hope someday they will rescue your soul

We write about guilt and regrets

About fears and hopes

About love and hate

But do you write about bravery and valor?

Do you write about lust and desperation?

About betrayal and sacrifice

We write about everything that hurts

But do you write about faithfulness and willingness to die

Do you ink down everything that soothes you?

And everything that makes our souls sing

Do you write about anything that made your heart smile, just for a mere second of this tragically beautiful lifetime?