Esther Racah Writer & Literary Blogger

Tag: poetic journey

  • The Well Of Phantom Wishes

    The Well Of Phantom Wishes

    The well of phantom wishes
    Was the well of my disappointments
    Of all those illusions
    That had deceived me
    In a malevolent way
    With their allure
    And their way of
    Misleading me
    With fake smiles and phrases
    Like lines from a script
    But in truth, it was all fake
    Every single thing
    And every
    One I had known, glimpsed
    Were nothing but
    Delusional
    Realities
    Beneath
    A deception
    A cruel deception
    That dragged me down
    Into that well
    So deep and so dark
    That I could not glimpse
    Any
    Vision
    Any hope

    My tears were of no use, nor was my despair.
    My broken heart had shattered, like a crystal or stone ornament,
    its translucence and splendour reduced to dust and fragments,
    soiled by the cold ground, soaked in mud and decadent filth.
    That beauty I had once cherished within me
    had turned into a twisted transfiguration of my own reflection.

    What remained in my hands was dust and decay.
    I closed my eyes, and silence shrouded my thoughts,
    making them vague and fleeting like dark shadows
    that moved around me but I could never reach.

    One of my silver bracelets that shone like stars broke,
    and through its fractures, you could read my life’s illness,
    My malaise of living, my melancholic soul
    that had no peace and could find no place of salvation,
    lost among the clouds that darkened my mind.

    The pain was raining down on me like one of those cold and biting winter rains.
    Almost as if it wanted to scratch me and leave marks like painful and distressing memories that followed me wherever I went at any time.

    My sighs and sobs were mystified by that funeral silence of the endless night which had neither beginning nor end, and which wrapped me in its dark and misty cloak, almost to intoxicate me with its gloom and make me forget my infinite pain.
    Lisa

  • The Tower Of Whispers

    The Tower Of Whispers

    The tower of whispers is my longed-for and, at the same time, rejected place. It is where I felt at home but also strange, where, at times, states of euphoria and joy were constrained by sadness and deep melancholy mixed with grief.

    In the distance, I heard the chiming of faraway churches and the birds chirping around me. Yet I was trapped in this tower of desires and grudges, hopes and disappointments, expectations but also the deepest anguishes, and memories—a tower full of memories, sweet yet mournful.

    I shuddered between amazement and dream, my anxieties, my fears were wrapped around me and almost forming bonds, invisible chains that held me still and at the same time in awe because of a situation of stability where joy and pain mixed into a single essence.

    The echo of various voices thundered in my head, in this dark tower of whispers. It seemed that time had stopped when I realised I could no longer see my reflection in any mirror because I no longer had an image. I had lost my original features and had transformed into something undefined.

    I had become a creature of a thousand personalities and moods, and I had fallen into a vortex of shadows and decay from which, no matter how much I tried to escape, I could not free myself. It was these shadows that seemed to reflect my thoughts and my anguish.

    My heart did not know passion. My sleep was… disturbed by monstrous creatures… that… afflicted pains to my heart and body… every time… I clung… to a desire for joy and peace… and hope.

    And so the rest of eternity unfolded before me as if I were a passive spectator with eyes without tears, but with a heart full of anguish, feelings, sadness, and regrets.
    Lisa

  • Infinite Stairs Of Waiting

    Infinite Stairs Of Waiting

    Infinite stairs of waiting
    The more I wait, the more I feel trapped in the dungeon of anguish.
    The more I climbed the stairs, the more I tried to ascend,
    the more it seemed I was descending downward with no result.
    All of this made me frustrated
    because I could not reach my goal.

    In my stillness I found myself,
    But at the same time, I lost a part of me.
    It was as if everything I had learned
    I had lost and forgotten,
    and everything I did not know
    I had unconsciously acquired.

    Confused and bewildered in a place of nowhere
    I strived to believe in my dreams but all I could do was fall from the stairs

    It was a game of illusion and reality.
    I had ceased to discern what seemed deception from what was truth.
    Both had blended together.
    It was as if there were no longer any meaning,
    and no longer any need to possess the domain of wisdom and knowledge.
    Everything had shattered into the abyss of ignorance and madness.

    And I proceeded on a thin thread between creation and destruction.
    My perplexities and hopes echoed as if they resounded through enigmatic structures, without meaning and expectations.

    Spirits that I could not discern, that I could not distinguish, whispered to me encouragements to pursue. But every time I fell and plunged into another flight of stairs, they laughed, almost as if to make fun of me — and to mock my inexperience and incompetence.

    In solitude I found myself lost, and there I languished like a creature from other worlds, indulging in my languor and melancholy; I was certain that I was towards myself and my image no longer had reflections in any mirror. The staircase was truly infinite like a steep ascent without end; there was neither a beginning nor an end, everything was an infinite perpetuity of distress and anguish.

    Infinite stairs of waiting were my dwelling for eternity, and there I had to… to… I didn’t know anymore.
    Lisa

© Esther Racah 2025. All rights reserved.