Esther Racah Writer & Literary Blogger

Tag: trauma

  • In The Abyss Of My Thoughts

    In The Abyss Of My Thoughts

    In the abyss of my thoughts
    I felt the shadows of my dark memories
    All over my dreams like hunting ghosts
    Feeding my fears with their perfidy

    I felt the chills of my terrible past
    Breaking my heart into a myriad of disillusions
    I begged my broken mirrors not to bring to life those remembrances
    Crowding my nightmares in desolate nights of anguish

    Everything now seems so different and irreversible
    My cries are full of tears of liberation
    Even though I cannot escape from the labyrinth of my mind
    It feels like my soul aches has become my radiance

    My nightmares came to be my companions
    I’m unbound from my ancestral ropes
    Nevertheless
    My soul is overwhelmed with a cloudy trepidation

    I strive to endure all those ghouls
    Surrounding me like unexpected ancestors
    Whenever they visit me by day and night
    Covering my fragile voice with their scary howls

    In vain, I begged them to definitely vanish
    But they came back over and over again
    Nothing could prevent them from visiting me
    And I struggle to welcome them as welcome guests

    In the abyss of my thoughts
    I rely on my hopes to linger like a lost butterfly
    While every storm tries to bring me back to the castle of blight
    Committed to the solemn oath of silence and forgetfulness

    In vain, I implored all the stars of the night sky to find a haven
    Not even the immense ocean waves were willing to listen to my concerns
    Whenever my heart aches, it echoes all over the universe
    Loneliness evolved into my only safe island of peace

    I wished I could continue to live inside my sparkling cloud of illusions
    I desired to be the princess of my dream kingdom
    However, there I lingered
    In the abyss of my thoughts.
    Elisabetta Esther

  • The Abyss Of Nothingness

    The Abyss Of Nothingness

    The abyss of nothingness swallowed all my fractured desires
    The fear that gripped my heart and that sense of calm, of stability that took hold of my life made me a helpless and insignificant creature, invisible to mortals, yet at the same time the target of their cruelties.

    How much I wished to be different, to be accepted, and to be treated with great respect for who I truly was. But in truth, my entire life was a series of piercing endurance of inhuman suffering, humiliations, cruelties against me, deceit, mockery, traps, attempts to undermine my being, violence, and all the most barbaric and terrifying acts against my soul and myself.

    My life had not been a normal existence—one that no one could have understood. My experience was not a common one. I had lived through a time when my dream had encapsulated me in an ideal, evanescent, and ethereal reality. No one could see me, especially during that period of apparent death. Yes, because for ten long years I had not lived—I had fallen into a deep and fatal dream, isolated from everything and everyone. I had built my own kingdom of dreams and illusions, into which, day by day, I entrusted my very self.

    All the hourglasses in my dwelling had come to a halt, and the flow of time had lost all meaning. The disconnection from the truth that surrounded me had become both a tendency and a habit—one that turned into law. Indeed, I had become like a crystal frozen in time, like a statue untouched by its passing. I carried within me that immaterial sense of my heart, trapped in a confining aura.

    I no longer cared what society thought, nor what people might perceive of me. And so it remains. For my rarity and my strangeness are imperceptible to any human heart. I was accused of things that never were, of things my heart could not even fathom. Everything had vanished like soap bubbles. Nothing remained—only bitter memories or sorrowful ones that dragged me down into the depths of an untouchable abyss.

    Delicate and fragile as I was, I had lost the ability to love, to admire, and to obey mortals. I no longer saw them as similar to me, but rather, I perceived other beings—creatures who had no voice in the human condition—as kindred, as dear to me. And so it was that the abyss of nothingness possessed me, and it will always possess a part of my soul. For I belong to the emptiness and to the darkness.
    Elisabetta

  • The Shadows of Trauma

    The Shadows of Trauma

    The shadows of trauma arose in the hollow night,
    When the world turned gloomy, devoid of light.
    There crept a cloud, cold and vast,
    A spectre summoned from the past.

    Faint whispers drifted in the wind’s soft cry,
    Of days gone by, where hope would die,
    Where edicts of a cruel fate
    Chained hearts and minds in endless woe.

    The quiet hours brought it near,
    A weight that fed on silent fear.
    Its claws of sorrow raked the soul,
    Leaving wounds that never would be whole.

    The shadows of trauma, long forgotten, or so it seemed,
    In the days when innocence once gleamed,
    But buried deep beneath the skin,
    The trauma stirred, awake within.

    The faces lost, the voices gone,
    But still, the trauma lingered on,
    A spectre bound to grief’s dark well,
    Where once there stood a fragile shell.

    It feasted on the hidden grief,
    In every sob, in every sigh.
    Teardrops of sorrow, silent thieves,
    Granted pain that would not die.

    The shadows of trauma, through haunted dreams, sought their prey,
    In every sigh, in each dismay.
    The fleeting peace was ripped away,
    As shadows lengthened, twisting astray.

    Now trapped beneath a heavy pall,
    With no escape, no hope to call,
    The past arose with forgotten names,
    And life would never be the same.

    In silence, it never swayed,
    The trauma cast in shades of fray,
    A haunting force that never fled,
    Until darkness lived where the light had bled.

    The shadows of trauma yelled to the wind,
    Like a horrible storm of fires and ice.
    Memories carved deep, where silence had sinned,
    Relics of anguish, a perilous price.

    Through the darkness, a shadow lingered,
    A yearning for solace, for new dawn’s heightened.
    Chaos and despair, a fragile thread,
    While wishes had lingered softly where shadows once dwelled.

    Fragility wilted in the chasms of despair,
    A haunting echo of a soul laid bare.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • The Sleepless Nights

    The Sleepless Nights

    The Sleepless Nights

    Long are the sleepless nights that I spend alone writing and dreaming about absurdities
    Surrounded by books and scribbled notes scattered around the house
    I wonder how much my life is real
    Since it is mainly made of poetry, writings, books and music
    Solitude is my constant companion
    I live in my bubble of segregation
    Nevertheless, I cannot live without music, art, poetry and that deep ache in my soul
    Having to keep dark secrets
    On the sleepless nights, I might write my poetry only for myself
    Feeling like no one on this planet will ever read me
    Every day I pretend to be patient and wait
    Most of the time, I feel the most invisible creature in the world
    With traumatic experiences and terrible abuses
    I had to endure in silence and loneliness with infinite strength.
    Esther Racah

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