I have found my writing voice again. I’ve not been able to seriously write (recreational writing, that is [blogging is more like medicine for me than recreation haha]) for a very long time…at least three years. Yet, it has come back, and I find myself with a sense of inner happiness.

One might ask, ‘If writing makes you happy, why haven’t you done it all along?’. I tried, trust me. I did write a little, a poem here and there, a couple of short stories, but it wasn’t the same. It wasn’t getting so wrapped up in the words that time ceases to exist.

I am writing poetry. I found inspiration from Japanese tanka poet Ishikawa Takuboku. I only discovered him recently, but the very first poem of his that I read got me hooked:

on a white strip of sand

on a tiny island

in the eastern sea

drowned in tears

I play with a crab

It broke my heart. He and I are kin in sadness, but he also helped me find heart.

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