"Seated Here, My Mind Writes" is a deeply personal and poetic exploration of identity, emotional disconnection, and quiet resilience. Through reflective free verse, the speaker navigates feelings of loneliness, the complexity of human connection, and the slow, often painful process of self-discovery. The poem opens with a familiar truth: that no one can truly live alone. Yet despite this, the speaker describes the silent sadness of being surrounded by others while still feeling unseen.
The narrative voice is gentle, introspective, and emotionally raw. It shifts from philosophical musings to vivid self-portraiture, describing the poet's features with metaphors rooted in nature and animals. These metaphors - a dandelion seed drifting on wind, panda ears, a "squeeshie" nose - blend humor and humility, drawing the reader into an intimate and unfiltered view of the self.
A recurring theme in the poem is change - not as a neat process, but as something that stirs anxiety, causes internal conflict, and yet remains necessary. The speaker is caught in the tension between wanting stability and needing transformation. Like a chameleon or a caterpillar, she considers the shedding of skin - literal or emotional - as part of life's demand for growth.
There is also an existential undercurrent: Would anyone notice if I disappeared? The speaker wonders how the world would respond to her absence - a reflection many quietly carry. It's a subtle cry for recognition, not in a dramatic sense, but in a human one - the need to matter, even quietly.
The final lines reclaim agency. Despite uncertainty, the speaker sits, writes, and names her existence. In doing so, she transforms her reflection into expression. "Seated here, my mind writes" becomes both a declaration and a healing act.
This poem speaks to anyone who has felt invisible, uncertain, or quietly hopeful - a soft anthem for surviving inward storms