GRIEF Poem: TORPOR, by Ruchi Acharya

Trying to find my way back to living,
my soul plays peek-a-boo in a vacuum tunnel,
where oxygenated cells have fled,
abandoning a hollow body,
thoughts swirling,
deeply entrenched in denial.

A sense of torpor settles over me as I
gaze at the empty walls,
the fabric of my cushion covers,
even my fingernails—they stare back,
silent witnesses, exuding a soothing tension in the air.

I’ve knocked myself out with awakened mindfulness,
where dreams no longer distort reality;
they are sharp yet obscured,
while fears fade,
lingering like shadows at dusk,
prolonging the delicate dance of human sentiments.

“I’ve outgrown the pain; I am no longer a sufferer.”
But what does it mean to outgrow,
to leave behind the ghosts of yesterday?
Perhaps it is to embrace the light
that flickers within,
a quiet rebellion against the darkness.

Author: poetryfest

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