🕊 🙏🏻🕊️
Denial saunters
In the quiet haze of morning,
I sit by the empty space beside me,
its chill a whisper against my skin.
The silence tastes metallic,
like the tang of tears unshed.
I tell myself this isn’t real—
that you’ll walk through the door
just as the sunlight spills through the blinds,
framing your shadow in gold.
But shadows stay empty.
Walls rise within me like a fortress—
denial, a hurricane’s eye
where nothing can breach.
Anger swallowed
Days crash against me, unrelenting,
their edges jagged like shattered glass.
Reality shakes me like thunder,
roaring its truth through clenched teeth.
Fists meet walls. Air feels heavy—
suffocating, electric, alive with fury.
Why did you leave? Why now?
My rage is a wildfire, devouring everything:
questions, memories, even silence itself.
But when the flames die down,
only ash remains.
Bargaining
In the depths of night, I plead,
my whispers like stones sinking
into an unyielding ocean.
“If I could rewrite the past,”
I promise the void, “I’d make it right.”
The weight of hope presses against my chest,
crushing, heavy as mountains—
yet I grasp at thin air,
trying to reshape the inevitable.
Promises dissolve; dreams unspool.
No deals are struck in this storm-torn world.
Depression cloaked
Grief settles like fog on weary shoulders—
its weight palpable, pulling me into shadow.
Every step feels like walking through wet cement,
each breath shallow against the crushing grey.
The light dims. The air thickens,
and I sink into myself—
a wanderer lost in a land without stars.
Memories pull at me like tides,
their undertow dragging me deeper
into desolation’s abyss.
Hope?
But then, in the first breath of dawn,
I hear a sound—a whisper, faint, yet alive.
The rain’s rhythm softens, the storm recedes.
Hope flickers like a lantern, dim but unyielding.
Acceptance grows slowly, like vines
reaching through cracked earth for sun.
I carry you still, etched in my veins—
not as chains, but as roots anchoring me.
The scars remain, but beneath their lines,
life pulses anew.
This grief, this love—
both a phoenix and a flame.
-
Author:
crypticbard (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: March 29th, 2025 02:35
- Comment from author about the poem: Denial’s friends revisited…pity there’s no after-party.
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 12
- Users favorite of this poem: Cheeky Missy, Tristan Robert Lange
Offline)
Comments8
It's a solemn theme, of people departing and one stage of grief being denial. But meanwhile, on a daft theme: Cooeeee, I'm coming through the door again; I never left ya; I always hang around like a.... bad smell; dunno why ya thought I went away; I must have been hiding under a cupboard. heehee. Woof! Behave, says Fido to me.
Liked that! ‘hanging around like a bad smell’ 🙏🏻🕊️
Or - like a bad apple? Rather, a tasty apple! lol.
Spoiling fruit still hanging from their tree is an enigmatic image O🙏🏻🕊
How does one hang around like a bad penny, as I believe is nearer the original saying? And how is a penny bad? We must know these things! lol.
Acceptance is a two edged sword that cuts both ways. It is an angel heaven sent and a devil that submits surrender of the cause. A nice metaphoric presentation of the process of grief lovely my friend
A process that I’m still learning myself 🙏🏻🕊️
A powerful and touching write on the process of accepting grief and what comes with it, and hopefully then turn the grief into positive memories, enjoyed the read
Thank you kindly🙏🏻🕊️
You are very welcome
And it was an intimate party to say the least
Slow going train 🚂
Denial was a word I knew like so many words entered in the dictionary without reference to real life, until, that is, until a coworker scornfully queried whether I was "...still in denial--" and I began the journey towards reality, I guess. Rendered to effect with such excellent imagery and an exquisite poignancy which grips the knowing soul, reviving that familiar hollow and pain. Thank you for sharing.
That seems to be the power and appeal of denial… like Ms. Havisham, it pulls us aside from reality but still participate in it. Thanks kindly🙏🏻🕊
Wow! Transformed and, while I thought the last one was masterful, you have upped the bar with this iteration my friend. I love how you begin the last section, not with a "heading" of sorts, but a question. Hope? You then proceed to paint what that hope feels like and how it leads to acceptance. This...wow! Excellent job, my friend! 🌹👏
I’m honoured Tristan. Making the headings a part of the text was a gamble. So glad the dice 🎲 🎲 were magnanimous 🕊🙏🏻
Indeed! A noble gamble that paid off. You are most welcome!
Life will get better arqios, time heals all wounds, it has for me.
Andy
Indeed it does Andy, thank you most kindly🕊🙏🏻
Wonderful piece of inspired writing .
Thanks John; “inspiring” is such an uplifting and inspiring word🕊🙏🏻
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