As an avid reader and writer, I find immense joy in exploring various genres and sharing my thoughts through my writing. My passion for literature has driven me to connect with readers and picked their curiosity through storytelling. But often, writing has been an outlet for my indignation, or a platform for sharing thoughts and ideas. I think that every word written has a bit of me that I want to share with the world
What about you?
What feeds my inner writer?
Poetry. That would be my answer.
Words can go either way. I have found myself expressing love and loneliness, hope and compassion through poetic language.
Sentences creep up on me when I am in love; they squeeze my heart when I am in sorrow. Whatever I am writing about, I want my words to carry not only truth but also feeling — because it is difficult to deny that feeling is what ultimately motivates everything we do.
Although I have written more essays than poetry, I hope my stories reflect the beauty I find in human connection, in nature, and in compassionate action. I write because moral urgency will not let me be silent. I move between the personal and the collective because I’ve always known that they grow from the same wound. In my work, indignation and tenderness are not opposites –– they sprig from the same love. And underneath every essay, every letter, every manuscript, I am always seeking poetry: the only form concentrated enough to hold what I carry, and heal the wounds.