This is the transcript of the talk I gave at the launch of “Amidst the Ash” last Saturday, the 13th of July, 2019. Thank you to everyone who came, and thank you to all those who wanted to come, but who couldn’t make it. I am very grateful for all your support.

Sometimes I wonder what would happen
if I could just step out of my way.

After a couple of years of not knowing how to write what was going on in my head, I was desperate to express myself some way. So, on the second of October, 2017, I too a deep breath, picked up my pen and waited to see what would happen.

I have always been a writer. Just ask anyone in my family.

I love words. I love seeing them take shape on the page, telling stories, truths, hopes, dreams, griefs and triumphs.

It’s been in the written word that I’ve learnt some of the most important lessons of my life. In the Bible, in novels, in biographies, in my own journals, characters and poetry.

I must admit, though, I find it very strange that the first book I am releasing is a book of poetry. I’ve always been more of a novel writer. And, I promise you, the novels are coming.

Not that I have anything against poetry. I never have. I mean, obviously not.

But poetry seemed to have so many rules. Rhyming, rhythm, length, form, patterns. And it felt to me that in order to write good poetry, I had to be technically good. This meant that, unless I was specifically writing free form poetry, I got caught up in the technical aspects of the poetry. I lost what I was trying to say, and ended up hating the results and incredibly anxious.

So I stopped writing poetry.

Then, a few years ago, poets like Atticus, Erin Hanson, Rupi Kaur, and Amanda Lovelace began crossing my path.

And I fell in love with poetry again.

These poets weren’t - aren’t - particularly fussed about form and technicality. Instead of feeling very cognitive, their poetry felt raw, honest - more like a sensory experience. It felt real, alive, present.

But, most importantly for me, their poetry gave me permission to write poetry the way I wanted to write poetry - focusing on what I was saying, rather than on how I was saying it.

This coincided with my growing need to express what I was thinking and feeling. Novel writing was out of the question. It required too much energy, too much clarity of mind. Journalling was difficult for similar reasons.

So, I wrote poetry.

I wrote this book.

This book contains poems in which I express my pain as I struggle with my anxiety, depression and chronic fatigue.

It suffocates.
It burns.
It clenches at the heart
and claws at the throat.
This monster called depression
that follows me around.
It numbs.
It freezes.
It sits in the stomach
and fogs up the mind.
This monster called depression
that follows me around.

It contains poetry that captures moments of joy and peace.

Have you ever run in the rain?
Run until you’re out of breath
and your clothes cling to you?
Until your skin runs with raindrops
and you can taste it with every breath?
Until your hairs clump and stick
and you can’t see through your glasses?
Until your feet are wet and muddy
but your body glistens in the light?
Have you ever run in the rain?
It feels like freedom and courage.
It feels like magic.

It contains some poetry that reflects on my struggles with God and, I hope, my continuing faith in Him.

If this is your glory passing by,
hurry by that I may see.
Let the dust settle
let the tempest sleep
let me recover myself enough
that I may delight in you.
Because right now
I can’t even breathe.

And so, I guess, for now, I want to say thank you.

Thank you to everyone who is here, and everyone who couldn’t make it.

Thank you for your love and your support.

Thank you for your prayers, your messages, your encouragements.

And, of course, Thank you to God. For Your faithfulness, Your goodness and Your compassion. None of this would be worth anything without you.

Thank you again. And God bless.