Bindi Shah
It took me
to be on my knees,
to pick up the pen.
The pain I felt,
I could not express.
And then the pen did.
And with it, a release.
It felt like magic,
it feels like magic.
The pain was greater
than my procrastination.
The will of the pen
my saviour.
I found writing… poetry…
Or poetry… writing found me.
I’m a poet and have written since I was 16. The late teenage years were a challenge for me. My family moved from central London to the leafy suburbs of London, and it was a big time of transition. I went from a Church of England girls school, to a co-educational college. I was seen as the posh girl, the one who was different. I was studying English Literature, and as I learnt poetry, I started writing my own. They were very Larkinesque – reflective, full of shadow, and so very powerful. I loved writing poetry and had found my outlet for the dark times I was moving through. That poetry outlet has helped me through the years – through heartache, through losses, and especially after the realisation that I would be childless.
I wrote the above poem during my childless grief, realising that I was writing more than I had ever done before… ‘it took me to be on my knees, to pick up the pen.’
I fully believe in the power of creativity to heal. Writing, art, music, and other creative forms move into a deeper part of us, move the hurt out of us, and allow the release and freedom we need to heal.
I define healing as ‘bring in ease.’ I know that when I write something, the ease which comes from it being out of me and onto the page is considerable. My best writing has come out of heartache, out of deep hurt, pain and grief. As Amy Winehouse said, “Every bad situation is a blues song waiting to happen.”
In the depth of my grief, I would wake up at 5am and write poetry. The words hitting the page in the darkness. I even have a set of poems which were all written during these early morning hours. Deep in my childless grief, I would write about everything hurting me. I had a stack of poems about the many injustices I felt. And as I wrote, I released. This was my healing.
In one of my 5am poems, called ‘Words from the Dark’ I wrote:
The clarity of the dark
Is like nothing else.
Writing words this way
Brings on a different purpose.
Words deep within
Come through.
Words from the dark,
Into the darkness.
The tip of the pen not leaving the page.
These words in the dark are real.
...and another called ‘5am’:
The red glimmer at the horizon.
Morning has broken.
Or will it break me?
My Indian heritage and Ayurveda background have played a part in my creative self. There is an energetic place within us called the Sacral Chakra, and it is a place of creativity. Chakras are energy centres in the body. The Sacral Chakra is at the lower abdomen, and the place of the body where the uterus lies.
This place of creativity becomes difficult when that Sacral area of the body is experiencing challenges, and with my painful adenomyosis that part of the body was definitely difficult to connect to. It was a place of pain for me, rather than creativity. I was constantly reminded of my ‘bulky uterus’ when I had the adenomyosis flare-ups. I had a strong meditation practice, but always found the Sacral difficult to connect to, mostly due to the pain I would feel there. The physical pain in the body, and also the emotional pain of childlessness.
A poem I wrote in the early stages of my childless grief, called ‘Parallel Universe’:
I like to dream sweet child.
I like to believe there’s a parallel universe.
Somewhere, where we are together.
Where we are living, and laughing, and loving.
A place where the two of us can bathe in goodness.
Where there are no bad memories, no hurt, no loss.
Only laughter, and love, and life.
Where the two of us are bonded, by the blood we share.
Where I see my features in you.
And the way you hold yourself, is like looking in the mirror.
A parallel universe, taking me away from the hurt of this existence.
A parallel universe I can believe in, sweet child.
After my hysterectomy, I noticed a shift. I had expanded into that creative space. I wrote more, I did more photography. Was it that the pain had eased, or was it something deeper? Was it that my place of creativity, deep within me, had been activated. I continue to explore that creative space within me, and the possibilities which lie there.
The way that hurt and pain has fuelled my creativity is so powerful. It feels so contradictory. I never wanted to feel the pain (who does?), but I also really want to see these beautiful creations come to light. They bring such healing, joy and beauty into my life.
My creative self has self-published a book of poetry; created a deck of oracle cards; started some creative writing; made cards from my photography; produced 3 artwork pieces with the meditation group for World Childless Week.
All born from that pain...
I am very excited to see what other creations there will be in the years to come.
