The Power of Poetry
Until now, my writing has largely been confined to academic and journalistic endeavors. I have always held a deep admiration for those who write poetry, recognising it as a more efficient and creative form of expression. Unlike a lengthy academic paper, which tends to engage only a small circle of experts, a well-crafted poem has the power to penetrate the hearts and minds of many with far fewer words.
There is a Punjabi saying that speaks of how a great poem can ‘capture the ocean in a pot’—a truth that resonates with the essence of poetry. A poem can leave an indelible impression that other forms of literary expression often cannot.
However, poetry has its own conventions and techniques, making it far from easy to master. Great poetry emerges from the heart and lived experience; it cannot be composed by merely stringing together random words from a dictionary. The art of poetry is akin to that of a sculptor who carefully carves a block of wood into a beautiful object. Similarly, a true poet takes the raw material of language and skillfully combines words to carve out meaning.
One of my favorite poets is the German Marxist, Bertolt Brecht. Brecht was deeply troubled by social divisions, elitism in art and culture, and society more generally. Brecht’s poetry often challenges social and political norms, employing sharp, didactic language to provoke critical thinking and inspire change. His works blend stark realism with biting irony, emphasizing the struggle for justice and the necessity of questioning authority.
Aware of my limited ability to write poetry and risking potential ridicule, I nonetheless offer this humble piece. It attempts to capture my growing concerns about the destructive aspects of identity politics and the rise of authoritarian religious nationalism. I would love to receive considered critical feedback which will help me to decide whether I should stick to academic writing or whether I should delve further into the poetic form.
The Ballad of the Unburdened Soul
Human beings, they say, are social creatures.
They seek the warmth of the tribe,
The shelter of the group—
Power in numbers, they claim.
But I ask: at what price?
These bonds, these chains of belonging,
They offer protection, yes—
But also sow the seeds of conflict.
Neighbour turns on neighbour,
For what? A flag? A faith? A face in the mirror?
True peace, they whisper, is found elsewhere.
Beyond the marketplace, beyond the temple,
In the stillness where no name is called.
There, where the soul stands alone—
No race, no religion, no class, no caste, no clan.
So, break the chains, my friend,
Forsake the comfort of the crowd.
For what is a true spirit?
Nothing that can be counted,
Nothing that can be divided, labeled, or owned.
Human beings, they say, are social creatures.
But the soul, the soul—
It knows no borders.
It belongs to no one.
It is the essence of divinity.
Humane rule based on truth and freedom
1yHumble request that a session should be held in London for wider participation and contributions.