Looking back, 18 and ½ years ago…
The picture of my life was this-
Full of hope and blissful peace
Love surrounded me, it’s heavenly
Great possibilities flowed endlessly
I couldn’t wish for something more
The days ahead I waited for
There in my dreams, I know I’d be
With each and all I want for me
Then abruptly my world collapsed
Now I just wish truth did not hurt
I should have left me innocent
No knowledge of how your heart felt
I should have left questions unasked
Living the fantasy, although masked
I would have had a sunny day
On this cruel winter’s day
I would have been smiling for real
Instead of faking what I feel
I could have had you still with me
But now all’s gone, it’s sad and empty
What to do, I do not know
Go on pretending? Maybe no!
Live reality, should I do?
Oh, happiness, where are you?
© Anna Jailene Aguilar Van Der Merwe (formerly Botes)
Picture taken 4 months after writing the poem, at the time my ex-husband and I reconciled after our first separation, which lasted less than a year. A year later, I was a divorced woman.
I love to write! Writing got me through that part of my life that was filled with a hell of a lot of trials and tribulations. But, not everything I [want to] write would be enjoyable for some or others. I hope though that some people – and they don’t even have to be so many people – would love, or at least like, the majority of what I write.
I didn’t always fancy myself as a writer. Of course, even now, calling me a writer is a fantasy. This year should tell me if there is at all a chance I can make this dream a reality. For now, I remain that person who studied Accountancy and is everyday busy with work involving accounting, finance, administration, operations and other related activities. It is not so boring, actually.
I remember the very first time (thing) I wrote passionately. I was 13 years old, maybe 14. It was an academic requirement for my Literature class, my book review on Midsummer Night’s Dream. It is still a favorite of mine, together with Shakespeare’s other works. And of course, William Shakespeare himself is an all-time favorite playwright of mine. I was the only student who submitted a 14-page review, which, I guess, encouraged me to write my first ever short story. I wrote more short stories. My friends and I used them in university for our Literature course. I also wrote a teen novel. It remained unedited and unpublished, the manuscript now long gone, most probably. I have other works, including an unedited self-development non-fiction book that is waiting to be revisited, novels with a few or several chapters waiting to be finished and a number of poems.
I don’t write short stories anymore. I don’t know if I just have no inspiration or if I have simply outgrown it. After all, life is constantly changing.
My poetry started later in my life. It has evolved, I suppose. Its emotion is no longer the same. The poems are no longer plain dark and gloomy. Even when I contemplate, in the end, my poetry sees and speaks of the positive, the silver lining and hope. I look back and I see that have grown up except this year, I’m growing up some more, properly.