Yesterday I was sitting in church when a few words of poetry floated into my brain…in Turkish. It took me a moment to realize that I had just began my first poem in Turkish! I immediately opened the notes app on my phone and began tapping down the words (insert sheepish comment about not paying attention in church here). I’m not saying it’s perfect or beautiful or even good at all really in Turkish (thought I definitely owe credit to my friend Didem who helped me with editing), but I still feel something indescribable right now. I feel like Turkey and my life here has wound its way deeply into my heart. Something feels different. Good. Mystical. Like home. Here’s my poem, along with a photo I took last year of my brother and his wife.
Here’s a translation in English, although it doesn’t really sound the same to me…I didn’t think of these words in English first, so it’s kinda funny to hear them like this.
Welcome to my freshly updated blog, I Sing My Soul!
This space has been in a bit of limbo since I decided that I would not primarily be writing about my adventures in Izmir, Turkey (where I live). At first though, I didn’t really know what I would write about.
About a year ago, I changed the title simply to my first and middle name, Ingrid Claire, because all I knew for sure was that I’d be writing things personal in nature. I also obtained the corresponding domain name at that time. I wrote about the creative process, novel-writing, pain and sadness, and I also started using the space to share my poetry.
Over the past year, though I haven’t posted heavily, I’ve noticed that I most enjoy using this space to post poetry and other creative endeavors, and sometimes to share personal reflections. So, that is what my blog will focus on! Once this became clear in my mind, the new title immediately came to me, as it is also the title of a poem I wrote before moving to Izmir. You can find that poem and more thoughts at my updated About page.
You may continue to see some changes on the site as I get things settled, but for now, welcome again to I Sing My Soul! I hope to produce and post more consistent (weekly) poetry and other content but sometimes I hit writer’s block for a few weeks months so sorry in advance when/if that happens! It’s a joy to hear from readers, especially if you are moved or encouraged by something I write, so please don’t be shy to make your presence known. 🙂
I’ve inherited a lot of things from my family. One of them being: claustrophobia. Yep, I definitely had to stop the “Finding Nemo” submarine ride at Disneyland because I literally felt like I was drowning. Sitting in a large spacious room with the doors open, watching Nemo on a tiny television screen while all my friends laughed at me, never felt so freeing.
I experience many of the same anxieties in every day life. Sometimes I feel trapped by my own calendar. How foolish of me to plan so many meetings in one day, but now it’s on my calendar, there’s no escaping! Or I feel trapped by all the needs of people around me. They want too many things from me and I can’t deliver. Driving on the 405…well, enough said there. And I frequently speak of Fibromyalgia as claustrophobic. I can’t escape the pain of my own body. And as I look at the unravelling of…
The leaf of a weed
beautiful in death,
or is its life just arrested,
like me in this moment,
petrified by hushed silence,
fingers of fear
melting, wrapping, squeezing?
Ready acceptance of the present,
colors not even yet dulled,
but all I feel is suffocated,
tricked by perfect stillness,
trapped by encroaching cold.
I gaze again at the mystery.
The grip loosens.
A binary constructed
of blood and sweat is
revealed as a lie
in fear and pride.
The melancholy of winter
stirs souls and whispers
a painful promise of hope.