For The Love of Language

On Things That I Know to Be True:

When I was four years old; complete with
snow white knee high socks and imaginary
dwarf-friends in tow, I wanted to be a doctor.
Already aware of the sickness in the world
and a bourgeoning puzzle-meister
I really wanted to fix things
seek smiles that had been hiding beneath
broken promises,mounting debt,
absent fathers and not so subtle prejudice
I wanted to piece people back together like Lego but
not everyone has unlimited play possibilities
some people will always be play dough;
easily moulded, soft under duress and
never a means to permanently express ideas through,
some people, will always bask in mediocrity.

At five, I wanted to be a gymnast.
One summer of self-taught summersaults
had me hooked – so I guess that explains why
I have sporadically been tumbling ever since
because sometimes the world looks better
with my head near the ground,
eyes staring up to heaven
as adrenalin kick drums my heart beat.

At six I wanted to be a writer,
I wanted to the tell stories that cowered between
politeness and impropriety,
describe emotion so often felt
but rarely seen because I learnt that
the safest place for some to
expose their true feelings
is only in their dreams so I endeavoured
to be an oneirologist and study mind movies
to understand people.

At seven I wanted to be a poet
to put my over-active imagination and
hyperlexic expression to good use.
I wanted to make all sentences beautiful
write poetry best described as flammable
so they could set some souls on fire
as I discovered that frequently the greatest part
in the creation of timeless art is
smudging the lines between
fiction, intention and action.
Passion has never been a problem for me.

This I know to be true but it took me
till the age of eight to realise that society
had but a sliver of space for a
doctor-gymnast-writer-poet and
sometimes I have a solar panelled
sense of self-assurance – I constantly battle
with the nay sayer in my head

and every time someone new gets near enough to
smell me, it makes me secretly uncomfortable
but yet I always date men who love a clean scent
so I know I have not reached my sell by date yet
and I know that I am a five foot two inch oath
still waiting to be taken by someone with honest lips
that do not fasten at the taste of displeasure
there will be days when I have a gut full of gale force winds
and all I want is for someone to shield me from myself.

There are days when I wonder if anyone will ever
love me as much as I love the words
that have cradled me through hard times
love me as much as my parents do
love me as much as I want them to.
There are many things that I do not know
but these few things,
I know to be true
©Assumpta Ozua 2015

There are few things in the world that delight me the way words do. Not so much me speaking personally but reading and listening to other people talk fascinates me. I have a profound appreciation for the English language which I’m told reflects in my speech and [hopefully] my writing.

With this in mind, I thought I would share…

5 Things Literature, Language (and more specifically) Poetry Have Done For Me:

1. It gives me a voice
   • As a child, I listened far more than I spoke (and still do). Sharing my innermost thoughts and feelings with others did not come easily to me, so I shared with the pages in my journals and notebooks.
2. It exercises my imagination
   • I have always been a dreamer. I love the transportive capabilities of words. They can teleport you to various spaces, times or even locations whether you’ve experienced them before or not.
3. I can paint pictures with words
   • As alluded to above, if you’re effective, words can convey emotions so deeply, or describe scenes so vividly that you think you have seen or felt them when you haven’t. I believe it is one of the best ways of fostering compassion.
4. I can work through my feelings
   • It’s amazing how helpful writing things down can be. Irrespective of whether anyone will read it, I personally find the process therapeutic. A lot of my writing is never read by anyone once written – not even myself but I enjoy a good purge on a page.
5. I move people
   • For many years I second guessed myself and kept all of my words hidden for fear of ridicule but everyone is not going to like you no matter what you do or don’t do. That’s just life. Interestingly enough, I have found that when I share, my words actually impact some people. That singular point is what helps me to feel like I am fulfilling purpose and using a gift that I love no less.

Photography by Nick Reynolds; taken at Saturday’s event I mentioned in my previous post.