Esther Racah Writer & Literary Blogger

Tag: violence

  • The Yellow Rose

    The Yellow Rose

    The yellow rose is my beloved flower
    She watches over me like a star in a dream
    She is always there for me, listening to me
    I love my yellow rose, and she loves me

    In my loneliness, I shun every human shape
    My only refuges are poetry, literature, art and flowers
    I am so overwhelmed by life that I cannot comprehend the sense of my fate
    And so, I abandon myself to decadence and beauty

    Daydreaming is one of my favourite solaces
    I can fly whenever I wish with my imagination
    Avoiding facing a reality and a society I don’t understand
    Feeling always different from others
    I cannot avoid to fall into the valley of despair

    My yellow rose watches over me like a guardian angel
    She is actually my angel, and I protects me from nightmares
    In my secret and hidden garden made of secrets and enigmas
    Where I can lose control of my emotions and be myself

    Panic spasms shake me in my slumber, surrounded by the darkest darkness
    And I can barely breathe, feeling invisible chains around my neck
    And a poundage on my body like an enormous demon of the night
    A ghoul that afflicts my heart with its sharp spear

    The sound of the night birds awakes me in my bed
    And I don’t see anymore my yellow rose that was just an illusion
    A beautiful delusional vision of my subconscious
    I’m all alone again and nothing can protect me anymore

    All my life has been a majestic nightmare
    A nightmare made of violence and survival
    An agony made of horror and demise
    Where there was no place for dreams and hopes
    
    Being voiceless and invisible has been always my reality
    In an existence where I never wanted to be alive
    Being but a doll, half alive and half dead
    A manipulated and deceived doll

    The yellow was my deliverance and the only companion I had
    But she never existed, for she was the fruit of my illusions
    She was the shining star I had always dreamed of
    And forgetting about this life
    I continue to dream because I’m only made of dreams and stars.
    Elisabetta

  • I Lived In Death

    I Lived In Death

    I lived in death, and the death lived in me
    As long as memories were within me
    As long as I relied on my dungeon of darkness and dismay
    The daggers of betrayal stabbed my heart and soul
    Numbing my mind in an eternal slumber for a decade of decay

    Foolishness was my wisdom and guide
    For I forgot my name at a time without the time
    In the eternity of forgetfulness of myself
    Living forcefully without the intention of life
    Doomed to solitude, numbness and death

    And so I wrote my despair and desire for not being any more
    Prisoner of fate and false scenarios
    I pretended to live believing in other truths and myths
    A spell of death and violence was written on my heart
    Still not free from the cage of demise and darkness.

    I lived in death, and the death lived in me
    Trusting the undying spirits of deception
    Captivating my heart and soul like vultures
    Avid of my mystery and innocence
    Having been thrown into a cave with no way out

    Slumber was my only loyal companion in my non-life
    Slammed doors and broken windows and screams the constant guests of my trap
    Explosions and metal dust were falling over my realm of nightmares
    Dreaming of not dreaming anymore forever

    Falling into unloveable harbours of uncertainty
    Being unintentional and detached in my survival
    Nonchalant about the future as I was destined to vanish
    Secrets and memories were pinning me down like a fallen butterfly

    I lived in madness
    Pretending to exist in a phantom reality
    Striving to scream but without success
    I’ve been an embalmed doll, trapped in a glass cage
    Untouched by love.

    My heart and lips have been sealed
    By the pins of sovereignty and hegemony
    Waiting to be forever free I feast upon myself.
    Elisabetta

  • Avid Rage

    Avid Rage

    Avid rage ignited the fire like an everlasting flame,
    Old betrayals resurfaced like phantoms,
    Faces once familiar twisted into enemies,
    Every whispered word, a dagger in the heart,
    The weight of unfairness crushed the spirit.

    In the depths of the night, anger roared,
    A tempest unleashed within the soul,
    It surged like a tidal wave, relentless,
    Crashing against the shores of reason,
    Each throbbing was a reminder of wounds unhealed.

    In the quietness, rage painted the walls,
    Bright strokes of fury marked the silence,
    Every flicker of light became a reminder,
    Of the darkness that brewed in the shadows,
    A bluster of voices echoed in the mind.

    Beneath the skin, a wild creature lay waiting,
    Coiled tight, ready to strike,
    With every heartbeat, the tension mounted,
    Breath quickened, fueled by resentment,
    The soul was a battlefield of longing and despair.

    Each encounter felt like a betrayal,
    A trust broken, shards scattered on the cold soil,
    Hope faded beneath the weight of anger,
    As happiness turned to bitter silence,
    And compassion crumbled to dust in the storm.

    The world appeared in shades of crimson,
    Passions ignited with every injustice faced,
    The heart, a furnace, churned and boiled,
    Eager to destroy all that stood in its way,
    Devouring peace, leaving only ashes.

    Although amidst the chaos, a flicker of longing emerged,
    Suspicion whispered through the haze,
    What lay beneath the seething rage?
    A sorrow deep-rooted in longing and loss,
    The ache for harmony, the fear of sequestration.

    Even when the rage began to wane,
    Replaced by the weight of unspoken pain,
    Underrated fury danced on the edge of a garden of bleeding roses,
    Transforming every soft glow into violent flames,
    A reminder of everlasting anger.

    As dawn broke, the tempest flourished,
    Leaving behind silent destruction,
    An inextinguishable blaze burning the void,
    Rising from the ashes of that avid rage,
    And embracing the darkness that swallowed the storm.

    Avid rage lingered like a spectre in the emptiness,
    Its echoes never faded, never entirely dimmed,
    A reminder of the chasms every spirit could reach,
    And the infinite journey that awaited beyond the everlasting and eternal flames,
    Just in that garden of bleeding roses.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • I Am Made Of Crimson Roses

    I Am Made Of Crimson Roses

    I Am Made Of Crimson Roses

    I am made of crimson roses
    Crimson like the blood that ran down my thighs
    Each time I have been grabbed
    And each time, my body has been exploited
    My body had always been the trophy of a cheap and crazy hunt
    Treated like a wild animal to be brutally tamed and subjugated
    I had to lose my mind
    I had to lose myself
    To survive that ferocity
    My body has always been guilty
    I was the witch to burn for a sin I never committed
    Hence a part of myself died
    Each time it happened
    Like a violent thunderstorm
    Which inexorable dominates the sky with a destructive force
    Being a “female” like I have always been defined
    Following the zoological nomenclature
    I was supposed to obey and fulfil my duties of slave and prey
    Because I was just a docile doll
    My intellect and my soul were useless furnishings
    As my lips are stained with red wine drops
    I realise that I have been a victim and captive of my foolish naivete
    I have not been able to protect myself
    So much desire I had
    To be loved passionately
    Seeking an ethereal love I couldn’t find.
    Esther Racah

  • My Grief

    My Grief

    My Grief
    I lost my father in October 2019
    Having to cope with grief and loss is complicated
    Almost every day, I struggle with my anguishes
    Vulnerable as I am
    Encounters always took away a part of myself
    People never understood me
    Tears run down my face like sparkling gems
    Strange and mysterious they say about me
    Different could be a word that definitely defines me
    All the time, I faced dreadful beings
    Nothing can give me back what I have lost
    Death of a part of myself had been necessary
    I would have loved to fly away for an indefinite time
    How many times I had to suffer and be sad
    A lot of times, my grief fractured me
    Violence destroys everything day after day
    Exhausted, I built my sandcastles
    But I destroyed them afterwards
    Empathy is what they missed when dealing with me
    Eternal love does not exist since everything decays
    Nobody has ever loved me
    Reasons are impossible to understand
    And I can be sure that
    Perhaps I might rely on my dreams
    Exceedingly hurt emotionally and physically
    Disquietingly grief is all that is left in my heart.

    Esther Elizabeth Racah

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