Not-writing and writing

A bit about poetry workshops

I think this week marks the last poetry lab meeting with Galina Rymbu and other poetesses. We started in October, and it feels like I’ve been having Sunday poetry calls forever. 

I submitted my application late in the night, two or three minutes before the deadline. At this point, I had a few new poems and a handful of doubts. 

Since the start of these workshops, I’ve written more poems than ever before. Maybe it’s the largest amount of texts I’ve ever written. 

These workshops are sometimes overwhelming. Sometimes poetesses cry talking about their past, (lost) languages, open wounds. 

But somehow these calls always turn towards the light. Galina Rymbu with mermaid-like hair in the warm shine of a round lamp. Tears turn into words, and those same weaknesses that make writing impossible start to be its soil. 

And what I like the most is how normal not-writing feels. How the impossibility of writing, its unethical or destructive nature is suddenly the most common experience. How it isn’t shameful. How not-wtiting is a part of writing. How not-writing can become something to write about and acknowledge. 

The question is either “whose text came to be” or “can you share why it didn’t”. 

Writing is fragile yet powerful, as is the one that channels it. 

I will always be grateful for these workshops. And I will miss the care I feel listening to these talented poetesses. Co-existing within their light. 

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This week was surprisingly okay considering it was much more uneventful than the previous one. I have so many things to do and to prepare for, though.

How are you in this moment? What do you feel? Hopefully, it is something pleasant or at least not unpleasant. Wishing you a weekend full of genuine connections and creativity (if you’d like that). Take care!