Hollow Haven
A Storm of Sorrow and Neglect
echoes of loss carry on the wind
quaking
churning seas of pain is breaking
the ties that bind, unwind
unraveled by a decaying string
once life felt so complete
viewed by others so sweet
a beautiful thing
a safe harbor for some
a loss for other souls
flying to away left too many holes
slow sinking, this haven as become
an abyss of neglect is to blame
turbulent bitter winds, volcano rage
bolts of searing lighting is center stage
blooms of disgraced ash, all aflame
threatened to swallow
the sapphire sanctuary once filled with love
to be now weight down from the storm above
sorrowful raining tears to follow this house so hollow
About the Creator
Foot Bindings
I asked my grandmother how she knew she'd fallen in love. I am not sure I ever did love him, she said. This was before I met my husband. I was naive, a naked spring, a raw nerve of a thing. That cannot ever be me, I knew. Sadness swept in gently like a Moscow thaw. It is no simple thing, looking into a woman's vast soul and seeing its foot bindings. Now, in Italy divorced with my skin singed off, when I say I don't love him mean: I have succeeded at feeling nothing most days and it mostly works. Do you want the comfort of Nothing? Do you want Nothing, too? Be warned: you'll never be free, even when you are nothing. Here is what doesn't work: Accepting the stages of grief. Talking about it. Sitting with the feeling. Missing him—no, the person you were when you believed in death do us part. Writing poetry. That, too. When I say I don't love him I mean: I feel capsized in an endless, starved tide. What sometimes works: selective memory. You must forget ripe tomatoes and his beard and feeling perfectly sheltered in a big blue world. Forget coffee in bed, laughter watching TV, blowing out the candles on the birthday cake and the quiet all-encompassing knowledge that you are chosen. Remember only how love turned to a banal everyday survival act, a trapeze act unsure whether he will catch you, how the warmth stagnated and became sour, remember the foot bindings and remember the resentment boiling in your veins as you stick it out for the kids. Six-hour Netflix binges help, too. A man's fingers tracing your spine. Frozen pizza at 2 a.m. Random trips to the museum just to stand near things that last a while. The realization that crying won’t change anything. Seeing that life is just a dream, and refusing to participate in your own suffering. Bite your fist. Walk on eggshells around joy. When I say I don't love him, I mean he didn’t break my heart, he just stopped touching it and it forgot how to beat right.
By Ella Bogdanovaa day ago in Poets
The Lesions of Devotion
Every day I set myself down on the freshly cut lawn and strip myself bare. I take my guitar and finger the frets and pick at the strings, listening for dissonance. My life is dissonance. I twist the tuning pegs until each string sounds bright. Then I kneel, calves pointing behind me, kneecaps facing forward. All exposed to the breeze. I close my eyes and play the melody.
By Paul Stewart3 days ago in Fiction
Comments (17)
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Congrats on Top Story!🥳🥳🥳
Congratulations for top story 🎉🎉. Embrace your unique voice, for it holds the power to connect, resonate, and inspire others in ways only you can. Keep penning your truth, and watch as your words illuminate the path for others to follow."
Wow! You were in the zone when you wrote this one. Excellent work, Daphane. Love the photo too! 🤩
Back to say congratulations on your Top Story! 🎉💖🎊🎉💖🎊
congratulations on TS. This is excellent and the emotions it emits is deep and true.
This is fabulous. Congrats on the TS
Another amazing poem! Congrats on this well-deserved top story
Brilliantly written!!! Love this!!!💕❤️❤️ Congratulations on Top Story too!!!
I don't know why, but it reminds me of Prince Zuko's backstory from Avatar: The Last Airbender. Like, thr first line can directly reference to how the world lost the Avatar, and how further on down over the seas of pain Zuko's been exiled to find and capture the Avatar to return home and seek redemption from his father. Yet, even though he's considered to be the fire prince and people think that his life's perfectly cushy, but behind the curtain (and on stage when he fought his father) the trauma and perfectionism crushes him. Especially the part about the lightning rage is about how he demanded that life throw him a lightning bolt when he tried to channel cold fire. Heck even "disgraced ash, all aflame" spells out Zuko to me. Especially the sapphire sanctuary line reminds me about how those precious gemstones need tk be heat treated to really be allowed to shine.
Without love to lighten the load, all else becomes meaningless & heavy indeed.
This is poetry with a deep message. Really thought-provoking.
This was so poignantly beautiful! Loved your poem!
Felt it a lot. Thank you!
This is full of thoughtful feelings for all.
Interesting, once something was a safe heaven and it changes by an event. It remind me of people who had homes before the tornado hit it 😔
This was amazing. I really felt this one. Great writing.