We are the Writers (II)

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About this piece: The following piece is the second part to a two part series- We are the Writers. It was written with the help of some of the best writers I have ever had the pleasure of knowing. I asked all of them a question: “what does it mean to be a writer?” Taking their responses, I intertwined them into my own writing. I am only one voice in a sea or writers, but I hope that there is something in this that strikes with every writer.


And sometimes…

The sentences we so desperately want to release into the air are held back by the dark hand of doubt the grabs hold of our tongue and what we want to say cannot be conveyed by what we choose to say. But

Words…

Words

We understand.

Words

We pull close like a blanket and allow ourselves to breathe.

Words

Are

Patient,

Kind,

Understanding

When we sit across from them silently, the emotions left gasping in our mind as we try and try again. And when we set pen to paper, somehow we “are able to express our thoughts and feelings to others by only using words.” And sometimes, when our hand halts, when we can’t find anything, that’s when we realize how many others are silently offering us comfort. And we “understand others” even though nothing is said, even though nothing is seen. But we know. We know that we are never truly alone.

Not really.

We realize that differences exist around us and we understand writing is just another “mode of expression.” Because writing is more than

Pen to paper,

More than typing frantically,

More than writing on walls,

On floors,

On skin.

Writing is just a word, but the act is so much more and is in so many forms.

We are the writers.

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We fell hopelessly in love with this release, this comfort. We were seduced by the power, by the ability to finally not only speak unspoken words but to also find others like ourselves. We wrote and wrote till we “bled ourselves dry” because we couldn’t stop. We fell “in love with the beauty of pain.” We hunger and “have a need for words.” We speak with poetry loosed tongues and allow stories and pieces to lift our hands in the most perfect way of giving up control. Because words are the “best expression of thought, emotion, and action” for us. We are consumed by the “need for characters, prose, and whimsicality to speak for us and describe our greatest loves.”

We breathe in the power of our title because for the first time in a long time we’re not afraid of “our voice not being heard.”  And we hope that we will be “able to reconcile between the ugliness of the world and the beauty of humanity.” We are constantly looking to see the first rays of light in the fading night sky.

We are writers because

We chose to see the world beyond what we were simply told and to build buildings where there only ever existed dirt.

We are writers because

We chose to listen when the moon told the sun that he would gladly lay down his armor every night so she could stun the world with her brilliance.

We are writers because

When everything around us was burning to the ground, we chose to stand.

We keep a “permanent record of our thoughts, our ideas, our beliefs, our feelings, and our observations of the world around us.” Because we need to remember. We want to know that in times of doubt we do manage to contribute something, something the world missed or overlooked. We “formulate the pieces of who we are and put them down so others may get a glimpse” because when we write, we give the world an opportunity to see the unseen. We “offer to the world wisdom that originated from our very soul.”

We are the writers.

We swing ourselves up to the moon and play tag among the stars. We dance to the beat of the drifting ocean, and where there’s a rip in the sky, we brush our fingers along the tattered edges in sadness and curiosity. We “touched the fabric of the universe and try to familiarize others with its shape.” We help those whose eyes have been closed for so long that they can no longer see the deep blue of the night, and we catch for them a falling star and hope that like flickering candles on a birthday dreamed, they will once again choose to believe in the magic that hides away in plain sight.

We are the writers.

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We spin in the rain of fallen words, and we tilt our head up to catch the hopes of thousands upon our face. We choose to “find beauty in the unpredictable” because there has always been something captivating in watching the world continuously use its broken pieces to create something new. We “shine light upon the beauty in everything” and hope that our solitary beam will encourage others to crouch down beside us and turn on their own light in curiosity. We “have an imagination and we make others use their imagination as well.”

We are a circus that never ends, and we swing off ropes and do flips the air, pulling ourselves up the thin rope only to descend back down. We set up all different sorts of tents,

Some flamboyant,

Some quiet,

Some loud,

Some ordinary.

We wait for you behind open doors, beckoning you in with the solitary beam of a light. Or we might choose to splash colors across the stage and pull magic tricks out of thin air, make your ideas disappear in an instant only to reappear in someone else’s head. We awe you with fireworks and explosions, make your heart gallop faster as you watch the dancers almost hit the ground from twenty feet up, saving themselves at the last possible moment. We pull out our hearts and put them on display in the gallery, and let you examine it in interest.

We are the writers.

We work in silence and behind shadows but we stand beside you in veiled support. We are a force to be reckoned with because

We choose to rise.

We choose to stand.

We choose to fight.

And whether we do it silently or stand on stage and speak clearly, whether we write lines on crackling leaves of fading spring or in the fleeting lines of sand as waves wash it away, every day we choose to be a writer. We are the ones “who are courageous” enough “to share the truth of one’s own voice.” And we refuse to back down. We know that the secrets of the universe go on forever, that the shadows on the trees all appear differently. We know that writing doesn’t have to be loud to be true, and when it is, we have no idea what impact we cause. We know that imagination is a stepping stone, and as we race up the stairs we pass stories of the past and breathe life into them because

We are explorers.

We are wanderers.

We are makers.

We are creators.

We have a “willingness, a desire to understand the world around us more completely or as a whole.” We are consumed by the need to record, to chronicle. We “take our own life experiences, our own emotions, our own beliefs, and present it to others” so they can see the beauty of the spark that refuses to die out. We “put ourselves into words, into definitions, into meanings that go beyond” what we simply know. We “learn about the world and allow the world to learn about us.”  

And we thank you.

We are the ones who choose to let ink flow onto stained paper full of the past but you are the ones who have provided us with the inspiration and the desire to go on. Whether it is

The stars that listen,

The moon that adores,

The sun that fights,

The trees that whisper,

The water that flows,

The sand that rises,

The fire that never dies,

The people who walked away or stayed,

The experiences that linger,

Or the reader who chooses to take a seat in that empty chair and allow themselves to be changed,

We thank you.

We are

Unapologetically,

Wholeheartedly,

Passionately,

The Writers.

 

Infinite gratitude and love to every writer who has ever changed me. I wouldn’t be who I am today if you hadn’t chosen to put your words down. Thank you,

Alissa Grams, Ashley Luk, Bryan Andrews, Bryna Anne, Claire Beaney, Emily Mustard, Hope Van Der Merwe, Liza Makarova, Kezia Struck, Malika Daya, Manisha Bharadia, Nilave Day, Pamela Hunnisett, Rehman Tariq, Sajan Dhaliwal, Sam Beavers, Sania Hasan, Siddharth Kumar, Professor Stefania Forlini, Vanessa Dantes, Ziyana K.

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6 thoughts on “We are the Writers (II)

  1. Just as Part I – this continues your grace to honour the voices of us, the writers, the observers of life. Beautiful work dearest Sara. You humble me. You leave me in awe! Infinite love and gratitude.

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    1. Just as Part 1- thank you. Not just for this, but for everything you’ve ever done. It means a lot to me that you continuously choose to believe in my writing.
      Love,
      Sara

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  2. Dear Sara,

    I thank you wholeheartedly for taking on a project with such intense ardour and actually go on and represent the writing community. And I think it so unique how most people can appreciate the work and the writings that an author can ardently create, but rarely do we ever think about the one who actually writes. Writing ends up being an invisible task for invisible people. But you remedied that. It’s only fitting that your blog is called ‘To Save a Voice’, because not only did you save your own but all the people who needed to be represented.

    Truly a remarkable and beautifully written piece. And ironically I can’t seem to find any other words to describe how marvelous your work really is.

    Again, thank you so much for writing a piece like this that needed to be written.

    Infinite Love and Gratitude,

    Sajan

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    1. Dear Sajan,
      I am at a loss for how to reply to your very thoughtful comment. I guess all I can really say is thank you. Your words have humbled me, and I cannot even begin to express my gratitude for what you’ve said. I also wanted to say thank you for inspiring me as a writer. Your pieces are incredible, and I’m constantly in awe every time I read them and it’s writers like you who inspired me to write a piece like this.
      I hope that I have at least managed to give a glimpse into what it means to be a writer.

      Similar to you, I find myself at a loss of words. Funny, how two writers talking about writing can struggle to string words together.

      Thank you for always choosing to write and inspire.

      Sincerely,
      Sara

      P.S. How many times have I used the word writer/writing in this comment? My apologies.

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  3. I can say for certain you’ve done much justice for writers all over the world. As people who create characters and stories from every walk of life, who pass on wisdom through their creativity, I think it was about time that a piece like this be written; and it did. It was written by a woman who understood what it meant to save a voice, and to speak and advocate. I won’t say that this has surprised me, this is something that the Sara I know would write,however this has more than put me in awe.

    I’m grateful that I could be a part of your vision, and more than grateful that you went ahead and wrote this piece.

    you have my best wishes and eternal respect and praise for your work

    ~Nilave

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