Category: That Book I Never Wrote

  • To me… From me…

    To me… From me…

    This may seem vain, but I’ve been wanting to do this in my copy of my first book since I first published it. And today, sitting and reading through it to remind myself of some of that advice that I give others but don’t use, it felt like the right time to finally acknowledge me. […]

  • A brain dump

    The obstinacy with which I once wrote, escapes me lately. It was an obstinacy borne from the absence of expectation. Self-awareness is easily distracted by familiarity that we may share with others. In a moment of inclusion after a lifetime of isolation, the self is quickly lost. Re-finding that which was lost becomes an arduous […]

  • My echo chamber

    My echo chamber

    For what feels like an eternity, I’ve been grappling with whether I have anything of substance to share beyond my first novel. Will it be an indulgent rant of self-pity, or will it honour the human struggle? Am I invested in it the way I was with the first novel? Or is the tedious repetition […]

  • Forgotten bones

    Forgotten bones

    Sullen heart Tainted soul Exhausted spirit Far from home A journey long A stranger lone Broken promises Forgotten bones Cryptic poetry from a cryptic soul For each to take What echoes with their own… Photo credit : Adobe Stock #authorsofinstagram #poetry #spilledink

  • That empty bench…

    That empty bench…

    The saddest scene for me has always been the abandoned park bench. It echoes with profound intensity the pervasive isolation that too many experience, but too few reveal. There is a shame that is carried upon the broken wings of abandonment that anchors us in that space between wanting to create beauty in this world, […]

  • To give up silently

    To give up silently

    “When you give up on something, it becomes a weighty silence that you carry within you for the rest of your life. It’s a quiet acceptance that what once was the centre of your being will never be a part of your being again. The silence is the only gesture that will honour such loss, […]

  • This is going to hurt

    This is going to hurt

    Another excerpt from a manuscript slowly taking shape in my head. From the sequel to my novel, this is Taqdeer: A dance with destiny. In this scene, the main character, Zayd, once more finds himself faced with the betrayal of one close to him, but it’s not enough to deter him from remaining defiant against […]

  • Prisms of beauty

    Prisms of beauty

    If you keep chasing rainbows, you won’t find the time to notice that you’re the prism creating the beauty that you so desperately court. Breathe beloved, and pause for long enough to appreciate the beauty of you, despite the ugly of them. (From the sequel to An Incomplete Love Story that may never be written) […]