Writing with a Heavy Heart, Smiling Through the Ink

By Sharda Gupta

When the heart is heavy, words don’t come easily.

They drop like stones in a quiet pond.

The ripples may look beautiful,

But the pain that caused them is silent.

I sit in silence, with tears the world cannot see.

I write, not because I am strong,

But because I do not wish to drown.

The pain becomes my prayer.

The pen becomes my monk’s bowl—

Empty, yet open to receive grace.

Each sentence I write is a candle.

It burns me a little,

But it also lights the way for someone else.

People say, “You write with so much hope.”

And I smile gently.

They do not know—

Hope was not found; it was built

Brick by brick

On the ruins of despair.

Even a tree, wounded by the axe,

Still offers shade.

Even a heart, heavy with sorrow,

Can birth wisdom.

To write with a heavy heart

And still look motivated

Is not deception.

It is devotion.

A sacred offering.

So if your heart aches today,

Pick up the pen anyway.

Not to inspire others—

But to heal yourself.

And healing, dear one, is the greatest service of all.

By Sharda Gupta