"I Write Your Name"

I cannot remember exactly what time it was on that morning of January 14, 2005. But it was very early, and my depression was trying to play tricks on me.

It expected me to, once again, wallow in the deep hurt I still felt from a traumatic breakup that had happened a few years prior.

I opened my diary and started recording my thoughts. But instead of a long diatribe on pain, my mind suddenly decided to "thumb its nose" at my depression by whispering a sentence to me.

J'écris ton nom. ("I Write Your Name" in English)

I had never penned a poem before. In fact, I hated poetry with a passion, thanks to the awful way it was taught at school and university in France. (I do not think it has changed much, though...)

And yet, what poured out of me in half an hour was a poem. The aforementioned sentence became its title and part of its first line.

I still remember the feeling of relief I experienced after signing my name under the piece in my diary. Never before had I been able to express myself so clearly and peacefully about a person who had seemed to take a strange pleasure in breaking my heart.

(Years later, I realized the inaccuracy of my initial assessment. There had been a lot of pain on both sides. We were too young and not made for each other.)

Something clicked in my brain. I was finally ready to get better. The path looked bright. Now, I desperately wanted to finish climbing this steep mountain to see what lay beyond.

"J'écris ton nom" freed my mind from my preconceived notions about poetry. It was also the starting point of my artistic career. I spent the next several years writing like a mad woman.

My first poems were born of a desire to express bottled-up emotions that needed out. But after a while, I realized that it would be more rewarding to try and inspire the world rather than contributing to its negativity.

The more I wrote in that vein, the more free-flowing and uplifting my style became. It also played a huge part in destroying my depression. I was in my mid-30s then, and experiencing happiness and a new sense of freedom.

Of course, my perspective of the world had evolved in the process. A few of the themes present in my early poetry were still there. But I wrote about them with more wisdom and compassion than before. There was no pain, just a desire to help others.

Eighteen years after its creation, "J'écris ton nom" remains one of my favorite poems in my archives. I re-read it frequently to remind myself of my accomplishments as a person and as a writer. It is simple and honest, almost naive in tone. But it speaks to the importance of letting go of the past, no matter how unfair it seems.

And now, here is the poem in French and English.

J’écris ton nom

J’écris ton nom. Laisse-moi prier pour toi.

Je t’aime énormément mais tu sais, parfois,

Il est des chemins qu’on ne conçoit pas.

Le silence est souvent préférable à la croix.

Je crie ton nom. Je ne veux pas revenir.

Je t’aime énormément mais tu sais, souffrir,

C’est comme marcher alors qu’on veut s’enfuir.

Je préfère la vie au marathon infernal du désir.

Je vois ton nom. Je ne sais pas comment

Mais, ce que nous avons été, le sable et l’océan,

N’a pas vraiment suffi à remplir le néant.

Maintenant, je n’entends que le son du vent.

J’entends ta voix. Je refuse l’inquisition.

Mon pardon, je te l’offre sans concession.

Mon respect, je te le donne sans prétention.

Le bonheur, je te le souhaite avec passion.

J’efface ton nom et ta voix. Je pars sans toi.

Je t’aime énormément mais tu sais, parfois,

Il est des chemins qu’on ne conçoit pas.

Le silence est souvent préférable à la croix.

©2005 Cendrine Marrouat

I Write Your Name

I write your name. Let me pray for you.

My heart is yours, but this is an adieu.

Some paths, the mind can’t see.

Silence is often better than the cross.

I call your name. Let me take my leave.

My heart is yours, but I must grieve.

Sorrow slows down the refugee.

I choose life over desire’s cruel toss.

I see your name. I do not know.

What we were, sand and sea, years ago

Was not enough to fill the abyss.

Now, wind is the only presence.

I hear your voice. I shall not judge.

You are forgiven, unconditionally.

You are treasured, in all simplicity.

Happiness, please face it passionately.

I erase your face. Let me leave without you.

My heart is yours, but this is an adieu.

Some paths, the mind can’t see.

Silence is often better than the cross.

©2007 Cendrine Marrouat

NB: This story was written in response to a Vocal challenge. Theme: "Write about the first piece you ever wrote. How has your style or perspective changed since then?"

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Cendrine Marrouat is a writer, photographer, podcaster, blogger, anthology editor, and the co-founder of Auroras & Blossoms and A Warm Cup of Cozy. She has authored and co-authored more than 40 books, including The Train: A Short Story (2023), In Her Own Words: A Collection of Short Stories & Flashku (2022), After the Fires of Day: Haiku Inspired by Kahlil Gibran & Alphonse de Lamartine (2021), Rhythm Flourishing: A Collection of Kindku and Sixku (2020), Walks: A Collection of Haiku (2019-2020), and In the Silence of Words: A Three-Act Play (2018).

Cendrine's work has appeared in many publications. She is the creator of the Sixku, Flashku, Sepigram, and Reminigram; as well as the co-creator of the Kindku, Pareiku, Vardhaku, and Hemingku.