This poem is an honest confession from a young writer about what it truly costs to put your heart on paper. The poet captures something most writers feel but rarely say out loud – that writing is not always beautiful, that it drains you, that the words never quite feel like enough. There is something quietly brave in these lines: the willingness to keep writing anyway, to bandage the pen and begin again, even when it hurts. The poet reminds us that peace and love are not easy or automatic – they are learned, one small gesture at a time. And perhaps that is what writing itself is: a gesture. A quiet, stubborn act of reaching out, even from the page. At its heart, this poem embodies the spirit of Poets & Peace: that honesty on paper is its own kind of love, and love – however hard – is always where peace begins.
Memento Mori
Ink stains will occur,
as long as I write.
A pen bleeds – it rebels.
It dictates penmanship,
before the picture.
Woes as ink.
Crying straight lines.
May this skin of mine patch the pen’s emotions.
Bandaging a tool, within repeated sessions
For the words I write will make a grown man cry.
Pretty white lies,
it just doesn’t end.
And I pity the pen that writes them.
Let me learn the face behind this ink,
or memorize your name.
Though it’s not enough,
it never was.
Now carve the words from my heart.
Hear it beat, bleed, and pump
as love gushes from it.
See me rot –
one with the ground,
though I long to be
one with the clouds.
Yet I can’t.
I am but a writer,
who does not exist
without pen nor paper.
So spare me your pity
let me die with dignity.
If not, then let me be reborn
as anything but poetry.
About the Poet
Auw Dissy.
Philippines
