so I wrote a book
I’m still trying to find the words to explain the complex reality behind my book of simple poetry, “Short & Sweet (and f*cking brutal)”.
It took me three years to finish this book — and a lifetime of emotions to write it. The idea actually came to be when I was about seven or eight. In an old journal, I wrote a letter to my brother who had recently passed: “I’ll write a book about you one day.” I had forgotten until I went back and read it years later.
At twenty-three, the title came to me with a vague idea of direction. At twenty-six, I published the 52-page book of short poetry, that shares the story of my experience in losing my brother at age six.
With a lot of mindless writing before and in between.
What sparked as an idea became a calling of something I knew I had to do. If not for anyone else, I had to do it for myself.
I had to share this experience in order to free myself of it. In some way. And I could only hope that it might reach someone else who could benefit from my words. Maybe it would allow someone to relate, to find that they’re not alone in their grief, or a way to process their grief at all.
And I couldn’t bring myself to make the experience any less real than it was for me, fucking brutal.
“Free myself of it.” Although, I still feel it and always will. Sometimes I feel it just as strong as I did twenty years ago, sometimes it’s disguised as something else, and sometimes it’s simply just love.
As my uncle shared his curiosity of the inspiration behind my book, it got me thinking. And really, I think it all comes back to love.
My love for writing has allowed me to express my love for life and my family, my brother. It has also allowed me to process the love that often shows up as grief.
While there are so many experiences I’ve found inspiration in; hiking the face of a snow-covered mountain, scaling the red rocks on a bike, roaming a different country, or meeting a one-in-eight-billion person — it all comes back to love.
And facing my fears.
I’ve always loved to write. That is what frees me; the way that it gives me space to dump all of my thoughts and spill all of my emotions, good or bad.
Writing inspires me.
There is so much that we all hold inside of us and with writing, we’re able to see what we’re all about. We’re able to discover so much about how we truly feel.
As I wrote throughout the years; journal entries, poems, everything and in between — I compiled everything that I wrote while grieving my brother.
So I wrote a book.
A compilation of poems that tell a story about love and loss. Death and existence.
And I plan to write more books (as I continue to write as is), but I’ll let the next one come to me as this one did.
xo, Bai
The green butterfly on the cover symbolizes the green butterflies that were flying on the day of my brothers funeral, his favorite color is green. And I priced the book at $13.39 because his football number was 39. These things will always be a symbol of him to me and my family.
