Things I Couldn't Carry
Poems in the language of silence — of love and loss, of things too heavy to hold, so they were written instead. Each piece a constellation: bright alone, but brighter together. Not a map. Evidence of walking.
preface
This is not a finished book.
But maybe, neither are we.
These poems aren't whole.
They were never meant to be.
They speak in the language of silence, of love and loss, of things too heavy to hold — so they were written instead. Each piece exists like a constellation: bright alone, but brighter together. They follow the soft ache of a boy trying to speak the unsayable. There's no instruction here. Only a boy trying to name what hurt — without needing it to be beautiful.
What you're holding is not a map.
It's the evidence: that I kept walking.
themes
Silence & language
The things that don't have words yet — and the attempt to give them some anyway.
Love & loss
Not the dramatic kind. The quiet weight of things that used to be there.
Survival
Not triumphant. Just continued. The evidence that walking happened.
details
Second edition, March 2026. Deposited with the National Library of South Africa in accordance with the Legal Deposit Act. Published under py.