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We Become by Saying: A Beginner's Guide to Bravery, Ruin, and Repair

by Mark Araujo
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Current price ₹1,124.00
Original price ₹1,299.00
Original price ₹1,299.00
Original price ₹1,299.00
(-13%)
₹1,124.00
Current price ₹1,124.00

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Book cover type: Paperback
  • ISBN13: 9798254340584
  • Binding: Paperback
  • Subject: N/A
  • Publisher: Independently Published
  • Publisher Imprint: Independently Published
  • Publication Date:
  • Pages: 104
  • Original Price: GBP 9.99
  • Language: English
  • Edition: N/A
  • Item Weight: 132 grams
  • BISAC Subject(s): Subjects & Themes / Death, Grief, Loss

We Become by Saying is a spoken-word poetry collection that refuses to be polished. Written by Mark Araujo - art director, immigrant, survivor, and reluctant optimist - these poems were born at stupid o'clock, on dog walks, and in the wreckage of a life that looked fine from the outside and felt like a GP waiting room from within.

Across four movements - Ephemerality, Laying Odds, Sub-Basement, and Reinvention - Araujo maps the terrain of grief, breakups, childhood trauma, immigration, job rejection, and the slow, unglamorous work of becoming. The language is raw, rhythmic, and irreverent: equal parts confession and comedy, tenderness and fury.

This is not a self-help book. There is no five-step programme. What there is instead is company - the kind that sits with you in the dark without changing the subject.

For anyone who has ever felt too much, not enough, or somewhere in between: We Become by Saying is proof that the cracks don't have to be hidden. They can be gilded. They can glow.

The Architecture of Scabs

We are taught to keep our skeletons in closets
as if bones don't deserve the sunlight,
as if the rattling is something we should apologise for
at dinner parties while passing the salt.
But I've spent too long trying to be a silent museum.
I've got trauma that doesn't just sit still;
it paces the floor like a nervous father in a waiting room,
it chews its fingernails until the cuticles are just
a memory of where the skin used to be.

I started writing because my ribcage felt like a birdcage
and the bird was tired of singing for its supper.
I put the hurt on paper because ink is cheaper than a haunting,
and if you look closely at the margins,
you'll see where the pen nearly went through the page.
That's where the bravery lives.
It's not a superhero costume or a stoic jawline;
it's just the messy, loud, inconvenient habit
of refusing to vanish.

So here is the ruin.
Here is the slow, tectonic shift of the repair.
It's a guide for the people who have been broken
into enough pieces to realise
that we are not puzzles meant to be solved,
we are songs meant to be heard.
I'm saying it out loud now.
Because we don't just exist.
We become
by saying.

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