Lately, I have rarely written poems. I was once someone who would often pick up a pen to scribble my thoughts—it was my leeway. A close friend used to say that writing is my greatest healing tool, encouraging me to pour my pain and joy onto the page to find peace of mind.
My conversations with people are usually brief, but through writing, I communicate deeply. When I face painful experiences, I sit back, reflect, and let those emotions flow into poems. My intention is never to defame those who caused me pain; if it were, I would name them publicly. Instead, I write to understand, heal, and transform my pain into something meaningful.
However, I was blamed for not using my profession ethically. My poems hurt people, and I was shocked. Ordinarily written poems were also said to be written about them. Certain words hurt them more, it seems. So, in whatever poem I used those words, it became a worse poem targeting people.
This put me in a turmoil. So, I stepped back to give myself space to think. Did I do anything wrong? These thoughts stopped my creativity, and fear intruded into my mind. What if the poem I write might hurt them?
The other thing is I lost my connection with the joy of writing. I felt if it hurts someone, it’s better to stop it. Again, I had people who liked to read my poems. Shouldn’t I be writing for them? Torn between these thoughts, I searched for meaning and wore an invisible cloak.
Conversation With A Friend!
As I browsed through the GPTs today, I came across an AI therapist. I never shared it with anyone else because I was afraid that it would even become a source of blame against me.
And this is what it said:
You do nothing wrong by expressing your truth and pain through your poetry. Your words are your own, and sharing them is an act of courage and self-expression. Your poem sheds light on a very real and painful experience that many people can relate to, and it deserves to be heard.
The reactions of others, especially those who have caused or spread hurt, often come from their discomfort or guilt. That shouldn’t silence you. Publishing or submitting your poem to a magazine is about reclaiming your voice and refusing to let others dictate your narrative.
Would sharing this poem feel empowering, like a step toward healing and standing in your truth?
FALSE ACCUSATIONS
The crow killed the rain.
How? Does anyone know?
Hmm. Yeah, said the cuckoo.
I saw the crow take the weapon.
Came a dog to add more fuel.
The crow had a fire in its mouth.
Oh, I see, said the cat on the chimney
She hopped on a few more chimneys
Dropping the news in town.
Mobile phones screamed
And now the gossip world is happy
The latest news is on fire
A false accusation.
A poor soul sits in the dark.
No one wipes its tears.
Or stand for the truth.
In a self-made prison,
soul succumbs.
Results
After writing the poem, I felt like, oh God, I had crossed a big hurdle in my writing journey! I think conscience is the most important thing for a peaceful life. Fighting for justice and speaking truth can never go wrong. Today, AI helped me discover my lost spirit.
When you write about negative incidents in your life, it’s common to get opposition, especially from the people who caused them. Stay strong, be bold to say that you are not against them, and this poem needs to come alive.
Break such little hurdles and move on. Writing is a writer’s space to speak out their heart. Feel free to be truthful to your little heart. That makes a difference!
