My Pen

✒ Nada Jabeen CP

12 September 2026, 01 Rabi'ul Akhir 1448

Words left unspoken
are never truly ended by silence.
Somewhere, they are reborn
as letters.

The people I met
along the paths I have travelled,
the faces etched into my heart,
and certain words
that remained behind as wounds
return one day
to the tip of my pen.

The silence of certain nights
turns into poetry
when morning arrives.

Some losses
return as characters
in a story.

When pain finds words,
its weight becomes lighter.

When faded memories
find their letters,
they cease to be wounds.

Slowly, life experiences
take shape as lines.

The lines, little by little,
give colour to dreams.

In the end,
though only letters
remain on the paper,
I realise that hidden between them
is the journey
of a silent life.