BEYOND THE MOMENT - By AMERAT ASAPOH ISSAKA

Written By: AMERAT ASAPOH ISSAKA

Category: POETRY

Competition: Global Poetry and Creative Writing Competition 2026

In a profound exploration of patience and introspection, AMERAT ASAPOH ISSAKA presents "BEYOND THE MOMENT," a striking entry in the Poetry category of the Global Poetry and Creative Writing Competition 2026. This work delves into themes of patience, cost, and debt, capturing the reader's imagination through its intricate meditations. Each poem within this collection is a testament to the enduring spirit of dreamers, offering a reflective journey that resonates deeply with the soul.

About the Work

"BEYOND THE MOMENT" unfolds as a series of meditations that weave a tapestry of patience and introspection. Amerat Asapoh Issaka crafts vivid imagery and poignant reflections, inviting readers to consider the weight of their choices and the silent debts we carry. The mood is contemplative, with each poem serving as a lens into the complex nature of waiting and the subtle transformations it brings. This collection is rich with metaphor and insight, leaving a lasting impression on those who engage with its depth.

BEYOND THE MOMENT

Original Submission by AMERAT ASAPOH ISSAKA

BEYOND THE MOMENT

Four Meditations on Patience, Cost, and Debt

Amerat Asapoo Issaka

DEDICATION: To Every Dreamer

PROLOGUE

The shallows glitter.

The deep only hums.

Choose your drowning.

SECTION I: THE WAGER

Poem 1: Beyond the Moment Tides retreat.

Markets recover.

Nothing stays

except the ledger of what we abandoned

to prove we were patient.

The wise do not bargain over crayfish

when whales wait beyond the horizon.

But wisdom is not clairvoyance.

It is the nerve to wager a certain meal against a ghost's exhalation

knowing the deep may offer nothing

but an echo of your own hunger returned.

Poem 2: The Drought Sower

He pressed the seed into a mouth of dust...

And expected nature to sew in life.

But the soil had forgotten its needle

only splinters for the taking.

Fleeing has never been a settlement,

because we don't surrender to rejection.

We make statements.

So, he carved his name into the dry bed

not to be remembered,

but to prove he had spoken.

The sky knows who chose to stay

and pours down a smile

And the seed, still buried,

felt the warmth of being seen.

Poem 3: The Uncut Card

He holds the card against his chest

not to hide it from the table,

but to keep his future unwritten.

The giggle.

Are the moves of a novice.

So, he offers none.

Only the pulse beneath his thumb,

waiting to be read by no one.

Poem 4: The Horizon's Promise

The map was blank.

He did not mistake it for peace.

He drew his own path.

And choose his own life.

The sea watched

not with judgment,

but with distance.

He would not apologize for the ink.

And when

the horizon swallowed his name,

he knew the promise was never land.

It was the act of leaving.

SECTION II: THE SEDIMENT

Poem 5: The Silent Yes

Not every "yes" belongs to conviction.

Some are spoken

to preserve the silence

until truth can afford to speak.

Yet silence, prolonged,

is not strategy

it is sediment.

The wise know when to break it,

not because truth is ready,

but because

the cost of readiness has finally exceeded the cost of ruin.

Poem 6: The Open Door

The door stayed open so long,

the hinge forgot its purpose.

He chose to welcome new owners.

And change its path.

Refused to look back.

Refused to wait.

The threshold,

once a plea,

became a gift.

And those who passed through

never knew they entered a door

that had already let go of its ghost

Poem 7: The Buried Root

He buried the root so deep that

even the rain forgot where it was.

The earth could no longer contain it.

Because it had occupied its space.

It could just not breathe any longer.

It had to crack open.

And allowed the root to move out freely.

When it surfaced, it did not taste the sun

it remembered it.

And the wound it left behind

was the first honest thing the earth had ever shown.

Poem 8: The Knife and the Wound

The blade lay still in his palm

not idle, but waiting.

He was protecting his emotions from himself.

Each day, he held it close

not as a threat,

but as a promise.

Not yet.

Not yet.

Until the morning he woke

and could no longer remember what he was saving.

The wound he had avoided all his life

was the one he had been holding

not the blade,

but the hand that would not let go.

SECTION III: THE ARITHMETIC

Poem 9: The Cost of Readiness

The wise know when to break it

not because truth is ready,

but because the cost of readiness

has finally exceeded the cost of ruin.

Poem 10: The Scales

He placed his two deaths on the scale:

the quick one, and the slow one.

They both had the same weight.

Yet. He was forced to choose.

And the scale broke.

Not from the weight

but from the asking.

The balance had never been asked

to choose between truths.

Only between lies.

He gathered the broken pieces.

And chose anyway.

Not because he knew which was lighter

but because not choosing was the heaviest death of all.

Poem 11: The Surgeon's Pause

His hand hovered

not over the wound,

but over the moment.

Should I call him slow,

or should I say he wanted clarity

which could have been costly?

He asked the clock for permission.

The clock offered none.

He asked the wound for patience.

The wound only deepened.

When he finally moved,

the patient had already chosen silence

not as a statement, but as a consequence.

The surgeon closed his eyes.

He had not been slow.

He had been afraid

of the one truth no scalpel could cut:

that clarity is a luxury only the living can afford.

Poem 12: The Burned Map

They burned the maps to keep the invader lost.

Who cared about invaders?

The path was theirs to follow.

But the ash did not ask for permission.

It rose

not as smoke,

but as memory

and scattered itself across the sky

where no one could read it.

They woke the next morning

and could not remember which river led home.

They had not lost the enemy.

They had lost themselves.

And the fire,

still smoldering,

whispered the only truth left:

You cannot burn what you fear

without burning what you love.

SECTION IV: THE DEBT

Poem 13: The Compound Interest

Time asks for nothing.

It takes everything.

And what it reveals is not the truth you buried,

but the compound interest of every moment you spent watching

while the shallows still glittered with smaller,

certain things

Poem 14: The Empty Chair

The chair stayed empty long after the meal had cooled.

That was painfully a table for one

. She had been waiting for memories

and it only lived within her.

She had set the plate for a ghost

that had never learned to eat.

She had poured the wine for

a throat that no longer drank.

One morning,

she sat down and ate alone.

Not because she had stopped waiting

but because she had finally remembered:

the one she was waiting for

was the one who had been holding the fork all along.

The empty chair watched.

And for the first time,

it did not look like a wound.

It looked like a door.

Poem 15: The Mirror's Stranger

He looked into the mirror and

did not recognize the eyes looking back.

He couldn't find the little boy from yesterday

and it was scary.

When did the clock stop ticking?

It hadn't.

He had just stopped listening.

The face in the glass was not old

it was finished.

Not with life

but with waiting.

He had spent so many years holding his breath

that his lungs forgot how to ask.

And the little boy he was looking for had not died

he had simply grown tired of being searched for

by a man who would not live.

The mirror offered no comfort.

Only the truth he had been avoiding:

the stranger was not the face

. The stranger was the hand that had been holding the glass

instead of breaking it

Poem 16: The Final Statement

The door closed.

He did not turn around.

He chose to give himself peace and never to judge.

The ledger was not destroyed

but he stopped reading it.

The scale was not repaired

but he stopped weighing himself on it.

He had spent years asking the horizon

for a sign, a reason,

a confirmation

and the horizon had offered only distance.

So, he gave himself what the deep could not:

a hand on his own shoulder.

A breath that did not ask for permission.

A step that did not look back.

And when the final door closed behind him,

he did not hear the click of a lock

but the release of a question

he had been asking all his life:

"Am I enough?"

The answer was not a word.

It was the silence that followed.

And for the first time

the silence felt like home.

EPILOGUE

The tide returns.

You are not the same shore.

About the Competition

The Global Poetry and Creative Writing Competition 2026 by Hashtag Kalakar is an esteemed platform showcasing diverse voices and innovative storytelling. Celebrating literary excellence, the competition encourages writers to push boundaries and share their unique perspectives with a global audience. Participants from around the world come together to contribute to a rich tapestry of creative expression, making it a landmark event in the literary calendar.

We extend our heartfelt thanks to AMERAT ASAPOH ISSAKA for sharing "BEYOND THE MOMENT" with us in the Global Poetry and Creative Writing Competition 2026. Your exploration of patience and introspection through poetry is both moving and thought-provoking. We are grateful for your contribution to this celebration of global literary talent and look forward to witnessing the continued impact of your poetic voice.

About Hashtag Kalakar

Hashtag Kalakar is a creative platform dedicated to providing artists, writers, singers and other creative talents with opportunities to showcase their work and reach wider audiences through competitions, features and creative initiatives.