My thoughts are suffocating with this ‘I’ but I don’t know what else to use unless I want to speak about myself in the third person. I wince whenever I try to put thoughts to paper, words I want to translate into poetry. ‘I’ gets in the way. But who’s a better witness to my experiences than myself? Then ‘I’ brings its cousins over and I am crowded with them, a tinge of embarrassment for coming across as navel-gazing: I, my, mine, myself, me I want, I wish, I do I, I, I.
by Ziallo Gogui
photo credit: Emre Can Acer