I had some news today.
The kind of news that sits on the surface
Skimming like oil on water.
Then, when least expected,
A match is dropped
And the oil burns.
I watched the fire
Dumbfounded
Knowing all I could do
Was to let it burn out.
There is nothing but ashes now.
The oil is gone.
The water is gone.
All that is left is a black, toxic sludge.
I stare
Knowing I need to face it.
Knowing I need to sift through
The ashes
And sludge
And fear
And horror
To find what's underneath.
Will anything be left?
Or will I be scorched
Condemned.
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Author:
Anna Wakey29 (
Offline) - Published: May 21st, 2026 23:07
- Comment from author about the poem: I went through a very personal trauma and wrote this to work through it (about a year and a half ago now).
- Category: Reflection
- Views: 10
Offline)
Comments2
A vivid image painted in this poem of metaphor. Nicely done
Good to hear from you again. Has your housing situation improved at all?
You may have worked through your trauma a year or so ago via this poem, but it leaves me mystified with nothing I can relate to. What happened?
Hey there! Still in the same boat unfortunately, but we have our fingers crossed. We're just on a list waiting for housing but we're in accomodation - it's a little "how long is a piece of string" thing right now. As for the trauma, it's not something I'd like to discuss in the comments section but I'm more than happy to discuss on messages
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