Esther Racah Writer & Literary Blogger

Tag: vulnerability

  • My Blank Pages

    My Blank Pages

    My blank pages of life and stories teach me to embrace the enigma of my fate
    Whenever I think about my future
    I can only see blank pages of a book still to be written
    With my patience and perseverance, I try to love the unknown

    I always change mood like a cloudy sky that lets the sun shine through the haze
    Sometimes I feel like a flower that has been sunburned in the summer months
    Oftentimes I feel like a leaf falling from its tree under the influence of an unpredictable wind
    Everything around me is a reflection of my true self

    I always avoid mirrors to not let them swallow my soul
    Indeed, I am a perpetual dreamer whose real image appears through rhymes and verses
    I will never know myself for I’m an infinite abyss of mysteries
    And I even don’t aspire to get all the knowledge of this universe

    Always metamorphosing into someone new
    I wait for the time that doesn’t matter anymore
    As I see my shadow disappear beneath the night sky
    Wandering and getting lost in the forest of doubts

    I don’t have certitudes and I don’t know how to embrace my future
    Sometimes I believe that I love instability
    Sometimes I think that I have a predilection for blank pages
    I’m a blank page waiting to be written

    Paroxysm of emotions is my way of expressing my true essence
    I’m made of dreams and illusions
    I suffer unbearably and I love being delusional
    A romantic is never a loser but an eternal source of magnificence

    I will never bow to power and oppression
    I’m a free spirit and like a wildflower, I love to catch a glimpse of the sky
    While the pouring raindrops fall all over me
    I wait for my dreams to come true and for my heart to be consumed by madness
    As a book with blank pages, my inner senses yearn to be filled with both bliss and decay.
    Elisabetta

  • Claustrophobic Thoughts

    Claustrophobic Thoughts

    Claustrophobic thoughts on solitude and self-love
    Duty was the master of my obsessions
    Although I was travelling in an unreachable remote realm
    Where I was not aware that I could have dreamed

    The surprise of being a part of the time and eternity
    But as an invisible and ethereal creature of darkness
    Longing I could manifest all the desires of mine
    Faraway from ambiguous wicked beings

    Enticed by my love and desire for my untouchable beloved
    Who perceived but ignored my passion for him
    Hence, frustration and impossibility separated me
    Keeping me awake at night and a dreamer in the middle of the day

    Whenever I could have the chance to meet him
    I would rejoice in his vision and sometimes voice
    Striving to obtain some quick and volatile attention
    For just a few instants that sounded like an eternity

    Silence and loneliness waited for me
    In every corner of my mind
    Whenever my hope could have been fulfilled
    In my naive dreams

    Waiting was the only option
    Even forever
    As long as I could be there not far from him
    With my heart

    Dreams and illusions are my merriment
    Like a multicoloured lamp enlightening sleepless nights
    While my claustrophobic thoughts trapped my mind
    In a vortex

    Letting the river of life captivate me
    I float like a leaf on the cold waters of fate
    When uncertainty is the ruler of the realm
    Echoing my name

    Words like carved truths on my soul
    Conducting me to my unknown destination
    I become words
    I become memories

    Vanishing in the void
    All that remains of me are my fears and longings
    Cling to my love
    Burning like an inextinguishable flame
    Pure like the blossom of a crimson rose.
    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

  • My Song Of Agony

    My Song Of Agony

    My Song Of Agony

    this is my song of agony
    I wish I had understood before
    my fault is my fragility and vulnerability
    being like a child who had never been protected
    as a consequence of all the abuses
    I had to endure in my life
    without any protection

    to be loved and protected is a delight I will never know
    I am not any more broken inside
    because I have been already shattered to fragments of myself
    I am not any more a whole creature
    being always cynically exploited by others
    the only things to keep me alive is my poetry
    which is part of my body and soul

    I am poetry, and it is the purest part of me
    poetry for pure and naive souls
    poetry for creatures who are honestly in love
    a pure love that doesn’t betray
    love is not just a short sentence
    fake love is a successful tool to lure a pure soul
    pure love is the most sublime of all feelings
    which should not be used to hurt fragile souls
    souls who never met kindness, love and compassion

    because it is so hard to be me
    I am not just a freaky girl for the sake of being “cool”
    there are traumas and abuses behind my being a “dark romantic” poet
    in an aura of romantic torments and anguishes
    being an exotic flower and an unconventional girl
    the Israeli Jewish girl with “that Italian” accent

    and there is also my loss since two years
    which I still feel a lot
    not having a father is miserable
    not having more chance to have a family
    being lonely and alone
    no love
    no affection
    just the coldness of a cynic society

    this is my song of agony and pain
    living a life made of words, passions and love
    love burns me alive
    love pierces my heart
    I scream in agony
    it is the scream of my bleeding heart
    and all the stars of the universe collide
    merging in a hybrid star
    which is inside my heart

    I cannot stop loving
    I cannot stop dreaming
    a transcendental love
    without reward
    without return.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • An Inextinguishable Flame

    An Inextinguishable Flame

    An Inextinguishable Flame

    It burns me inside like an inextinguishable flame
    The desire for unpredictability and unexpectedness
    Passions and dreams induce me to explore my unconsciousness
    My fragility and my vulnerability are the shadows of my dismay
    The more I know about myself, the more I want to embrace the obliviousness
    The more I learn, the more I become doubtful
    Whenever I embrace the risk of losing what I care about the most in life
    Persistent aches grasp my heart, and I abandon myself to the madness of my senses.
    Esther Racah

  • The Stillness Of Life

    The Stillness Of Life

    The Stillness Of Life

    The stillness of life is like a steel sculpture
    Cold and immovable is the course of the events
    No emotion can perturb the fate
    As it is like a constant and perpetual motion
    Like the falling of silvery snowflakes
    Swirling under the influence of cold winds
    Hallucinations are daydreams of insoluble enigmas
    Life flows like a waterfall
    The silence is my haven
    The noise destroys my soul and mind
    Too many words are worthless, like dust falling down
    Despair doesn’t seek a solution
    Since it feeds on an irrational need for peace
    Vulnerability and frailty produce a burst in my mind
    And I try to tolerate the inevitable fate.
    Esther Racah

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