Fiction Essential Existential + Here I am by Ruth Mestry

“I feel sorry for you being a writer. That’s so boring,” a friend told me. (About my novels here.)

His statement wasn’t a joke, but it was so absurd that I just chuckled. Inwardly, I decided to “consider the source.” He hated his own job and thought the only book worth reading was the bible.

A lot of people I know consider fiction in any medium to be frivolous or worse. Still, to me fiction is so essential that every time they tell me that, it catches me off guard. I splutter, keep quiet, or over-argue my point. Between you and me, I feel sorry for them, those non-writers and non-fiction lovers.

So why do I care enough to tell you about it? Really, I don’t know. Maybe it rankles me at the moment because my current occupation of querying for a Literary Agent can make me question my entire existence — but only if I let it. That’s why I want your input.

Stories are everything to me. When I was a journalist, it was clearer than ever that so-called non-fiction comes with its own special shading and lighting, point of view, let alone the author’s distinct vantage point. Ditto for the mass of first-person stories (like this one) that are the internet’s lifeblood.

It’s all good, all of value! Rather than pick one over the other, let’s bring it all to the party! Go ahead and bring your fave “educational,” “constructive,“ and blessed as “money making“ fare. Stories, painting, photography, sculpture, dance, music, video, whatever — all the arty stuff is what plumbs my humanity. Storytelling and the rest of the arts deepen thought, empathy, and appreciation of life. The proof is how art endures and how it continues to influence as individuals and within our cultures..

Today’s guest, Ruth Mestry is a wonderful writer! She works at a children’s museum in Mumbai, India, and also hosts her ruthmess blog, which is filled with whatever inspires her…

Here I am by Ruth Mestry

Rising sun here I am!

Withdrawing sun here I am!

Just the same as I have always been

Nothing changed yet so much seen

And yet so much still left to be. 

Here I am. This is me. 

Same old dream, same old chase 

Same old paths, same old ways 

There are things I know better now 

Still everything is a daze

So much wiser, yet mind with the wind sways.

You would think I am the great “I AM” now, but you see 

Tattered and torn, broken to the bone

Here I am. This is me. 

Living off borrowed time, scarping the edges 

Barely calling it a life 

Dreaming of stars in the night

All forgotten in the light. 

Things to say, left unsaid.

So much written, left unread.

Everything I have to see, everything I have to be 

Keeps looking up to me

Here I am. This is me. 

But lying next to a soul, you see.

Listening to the vastness of the sea

Although in pieces, scruffy and misshapen

A tender gaze reminds – “You are not forsaken”

Defeated maybe, but determined too 

Made it so far, will also make it through.

The dreams of night, will one day see the light

You and yours will one day see that wondrous sight

Until then live in the whisper with hope anew

“Here you are. This is you. I love you. All of you.”

The motivation behind writing this poetry is one person. This one person taught me the most important thing about love I have ever known – “Acceptance”. 

I wasn’t sure what to write about and then I suddenly realized that I had penned down a few lines one day in the middle of work on a scarp piece of paper. I took those few lines and this poetry formed itself. 

I have known love before but it did not last. Now when I think of it, I often come to the conclusion that it was because there was only love. Love by itself may win battles but it often loses the war. 

But then a person entered my life and taught me all I know about love now. This person is far from perfect, is ambitious but is still figuring out things. This person doesn’t know how to love or at least that is what they think. But this person knows acceptance.

Is fiction an important part of your life?

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