Why I write
Why do I write? It is a choice-less compulsion. I do not write for clarity or to get anything. But an expression stretches its limbs on the ground of my imagination, characters take on flesh and voice, the walls become colourful and alive with texture, new languages awaken like the morning cries of birds. Not hunger but an itch edges me. Not for wisdom but a celebration of nebulae that is the essence of the form and mystery of the universe.
Why do I write? I write because my season has come and fruits hang heavy with the burden of their sweetness. Somewhere, someone may feel an amorphous desire for this fruit... the way children want something but don’t know what it is. But they must wait till the sun burns a little more, till the wind tosses wildly, and words fall ripe and ready for those who walk the garden in those moments...
I write because an energy knocks inside of me. Something stirs and wants to be let out, but it wants a form fed with my life blood. I become a dragon mother who can feel the seed stirring in her. I can feel it inside me. It is me and mine and yet more so, beyond me. Fashioned by my life’s journey, clothed in my language and imagination, a consciousness, an energy, a soul force weaves aspects of me like a robe, an armour, whose strength and suppleness, whose protection and gifts someone else will inherit.
© Harvinder Kaur. All rights reserved.
Why do I write? It is a choice-less compulsion. I do not write for clarity or to get anything. But an expression stretches its limbs on the ground of my imagination, characters take on flesh and voice, the walls become colourful and alive with texture, new languages awaken like the morning cries of birds. Not hunger but an itch edges me. Not for wisdom but a celebration of nebulae that is the essence of the form and mystery of the universe.
Why do I write? I write because my season has come and fruits hang heavy with the burden of their sweetness. Somewhere, someone may feel an amorphous desire for this fruit... the way children want something but don’t know what it is. But they must wait till the sun burns a little more, till the wind tosses wildly, and words fall ripe and ready for those who walk the garden in those moments...
I write because an energy knocks inside of me. Something stirs and wants to be let out, but it wants a form fed with my life blood. I become a dragon mother who can feel the seed stirring in her. I can feel it inside me. It is me and mine and yet more so, beyond me. Fashioned by my life’s journey, clothed in my language and imagination, a consciousness, an energy, a soul force weaves aspects of me like a robe, an armour, whose strength and suppleness, whose protection and gifts someone else will inherit.
© Harvinder Kaur. All rights reserved.
