Color – facing numbness

By Pavithra

I wrote this poem below a few months ago.

I felt angry inside — why are there fewer words welling up inside of me? Why can’t I feel the intensity of sadness, of the beauty of the rising sun, the happiness rising in me over the sweet simple things in life?

Why is everything quieter?

Why do I not stay up nights with tears rolling down my face, or me wishing in my heart of my dreams, my heart full with hope?

I felt so much irony inside of me. I questioned who I was. I still do. What is my purpose? When my heart seeks for me to create — why is it that I battle social anxiety? When my heart seeks for me to get up and laugh and dance, why am I afraid? Why is it that I feel the science I pursue stifles me, chokes my energy, and is against the energy I believe I have been granted inside of me?

I realize now healing comes with a form of silence. overcoming trauma may mean my I subconsciously miss the chaos. This is confusing, but I am now aware.

I also realize I miss the time I had to write, to read, to dance, and the space I had. I know I must in the next stepping stone of my life, choose one that is far from the bustle…the treaded path I have run in circles. The streaks of mud, the mini pitter patter of my footsteps from long ago. My feet have grown, and yet my path hasn’t. I have taken circles after circles, tricking myself into the belief, that this must mean growth for my inner heart.

I hope in the next few months, I envision the next step that allows me to re-embrace my heart. The arts, my love towards grace, spirituality 🙂 to enriching my body, to embracing my wounds, my mistakes, and I hope I remember what it is to cry, what it is to love the life inside of me, what it is to feel awakened, once again. Until then, my reader, I hope you continue with me on my journey. I hope I write more this next year. Or at least I will myself to actively embrace my inner voice and not let myself hide under my covers. For what we dream in our sleep isn’t reality ~ it’s our voice shouting at us… “wake up! wake up! please promise you don’t forget me, okay?”

thoughts long gone. memories haunt, stale.
flavorless and conscious of the fact.
futility. the present.
a cynic snickering in the dark.
it’s long gone hasn’t it.
weak weak weak worthless weak worthless.
repetition drowning words.
for the words i drown drown my voice.
a mind once choking from the weight.
now empty. eyes empty staring at the sky.
why does it matter.
the cynic laughs.
look down at my feet. they continue walking forward. so why look back?
the cynic laughs.
my feet don’t carry the weight they used to. why do i miss it?
the cynic laughs.
a blank wall.
i turn around.
where did the laughter go?
alone in my thoughts.
yet my thoughts are gone.

27 Feb, 2022

Author: Workers' Archive

Covering sensitivity at work and beyond on my website:

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