Held by Words

How Poetry Became My Truest Friend

As we step into this new year, I want to try something a bit different (just for this week). Rather than sharing reflections from my life, I’d like to invite you into something deeply personal: my relationship with writing and poetry—my healer, my truest friend, my mirror, and my guide.

This time, as I share my words with you, my hope is to offer more than just a writing or poem. I want to invite you into the experience of writing itself—the reflections it stirs, the truths it reveals, and the gentle way it encourages us to explore ourselves and the world around us.

This isn’t something I share lightly. These words are more than words to me; they are a bridge, reaching across the distance between you and me, an invitation to the quiet building of a community. Even if we’ve not in the same room, city, or country, for this brief moment, through this page, we meet—perhaps for the first time, perhaps once again.

In this exchange, we hold something tender together. I offer pieces of myself, and in your reading, you offer something back—your attention, your time, and perhaps even a reflection of yourself in my words. It’s a small but meaningful reminder that in a world filled with superficial interactions, endless distractions, short attention spans, and the constant chase of appearances, true connection, however brief, still matters.

For as long as I can remember, words have been my sacred sanctuary.

When the world felt too heavy and confusing, they shared the weight with me. When joy overflowed, they caught it and preserved those moments on the page. But more than that, writing has been the quiet force that helps me make sense of my life, my truth, my purpose and myself.

Poetry, in particular, has been my most tender and unwavering friend. It has held my hand when all others let go, staying with me when everyone else walked away. It offered me its lap to rest my weary head, when chaos around me felt too loud. It has been the most loyal and strong companion—most true, brave, and courageous—never faltering, never EVER leaving.

The thing about poetry, though, is that it has never arrived politely, at least to me. Poems don’t knock on my door or wait for an invitation. They burst in unannounced, often at the most inconvenient times. I’ve always been slightly jealous of those writers who sit serenely in coffee shops, sipping lattes and telling you ‘they’re crafting poetry’. For me, poetry doesn’t craft—it knocks me out. I could be out running, when suddenly, a line drops into my mind—fully formed and insistent. It’s like a kick in the stomach, sudden and hard, or perhaps more like a kiss that startles, leaving me disoriented. Either way, I have to stop everything to catch it, somehow, someway.

Sometimes, the moments are almost comical. There I am, half-asleep, brushing my teeth, when a phrase jolts me awake, and I find myself scrambling for my phone, or a pen - toothbrush still in my mouth, to write it down. Or in the kitchen, hands covered in flour, fumbling for my phone to type out a phrase before it dissolves like sugar in water. Once, while swimming laps at the YMCA, a poem struck me underwater. I scrambled out of the pool, nearly knocking over an old lady in my rush to find a pen, water dripping everywhere.

Such is my relationship with my beloved poetry. It always demands my full and complete surrender—my full attention, my whole love, my undivided heart.

This is how poetry arrives for me: it reveals itself—in full form. From where, I do not know. I do not ask. I simply listen, I simply pay attention and I am thankful. Thankful for the way it transforms ordinary moments into extraordinary ones. Thankful for how it opens a window to truths I wouldn’t otherwise see. Thankful for how it reveals myself to me.

Yet poetry doesn’t just save—it transforms me.

The poem I share with you today came to me a couple days back while I was driving on the I-5, lost in trivial thoughts. Suddenly, the words struck—insistent and clear. I had to take the next exit and scribbled them on the back of a Walmart receipt. By the end, I had tears in my eyes and a smile on my face. It was a revelation, capturing a quiet shift in how I see the world and my place within it.

This week, I share that poem with you, not just as a window into my own journey, but as an invitation for your own reflection. I ask you to pause, to listen deeply, and to remain open—to see your own reflection in my words.

Let these words speak to you - in which ever way they want to. Let’s read it together, shall we?

NO MORE SLEEPWALKING

There was a time
that I was sleepwalking through life.

And I thought that life was like a puzzle set,
each piece having a proper place,
our job to find the perfect way
to make the puzzle come together
into some predestined beautiful image.

But then I awoke
and saw the puzzle pieces,
in a heap on the floor,
in a chaotic mess.
And I looked away.

Now I see life
like a naked baby,
running across the street,
its little bottom bouncing up and down,
shouting, 'Catch me! Catch me!'

I run behind him,
only to find him stop suddenly
at a fallen leaf.

He picks it up,
places it on his head,
and says, 'Aren’t I pretty? Aren't I pretty?'

And I say,
'Yes, yes, yes'.

And so I have left the puzzle pieces in a heap on the floor,
and I leave the door to my house open and unlocked.

I run behind this beautiful child,
who stops at every leaf, and places dried petals in my palm,
and says, 'Come, come, come!'

And I have decided to say,
Yes, yes, yes.
I’ve decided to stay with the baby instead.

For now, 
I am 
fully awake!

…For me, this poem reflects how I’ve changed. It revealed that I no longer see life as something to be meticulously planned or shaped to fit others’ expectations, or an image dictated by culture, society, or even the version of myself from 15 years ago. Instead, I’ve learned to embrace life’s wild, unpredictable beauty, to stay present, and to say yes! It’s a reminder of how I hope to live: fully awake, fully alive, and absolutely true.

This poem reminds us that life isn’t meant to be perfectly ordered or solved like a puzzle. There is no singular grand plan, no predestined image that we must reach. The road laid before you by those who came before is only one of countless paths—it is an option, not a mandate, not a requirement. There are no rules. No limits. Life offers infinite possibilities, each as valid as the next. It is messy, unpredictable, and breathtakingly beautiful.

What about you? As you step into this new year, what might you leave behind? What might you challenge? What expectations or old beliefs no longer serve you? How can you open yourself to the unplanned joys and say “yes” to the unexpected moments that spark wonder within you? How can you be more 'true’?

I hope that you find the courage to leave a few puzzle pieces behind, to follow the beautiful child of wonder within you. And above all, I hope you say ‘yes, yes, yes!’ to the breathtaking beauty, that is ‘You’.

With wonder and grace,

Niyati ♥

---

Sending love