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Write, Dear Stranger. Write

A poem about writing as a means of catharsis
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A close-up of a man in a sun hat, smiling.
Photo by Mika on Unsplash

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Write, dear stranger.
Write.

Even if it breaks your heart,
especially if it breaks your heart.
Even if it makes you cringe,
especially if it makes you cringe.
Write.

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And never stop.
Or give in.
Or give up.

Because it is through that catharsis —
the catharsis of writing about it,
about life, love, loss,
your loftiest dreams,
and your darkest secrets,
the adventures that had you bedazzled,
and the misadventures that don’t quite make sense,
and the role you are playing in it,
in life, in love, through loss…
that you truly begin to appreciate
what a privilege it is,
to be the mess that you are,
in the mess that you are.

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That’s why I implore you, dear stranger,
as I implore my dearest friends,
Write, and remember.

Never stop.
Or give in.
Or give up.

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