In shadows deep, where silence grew,
I fought a battle, none ever knew,
The weight I bare, a heavy chain,
While smiles hid deep, the hidden pain,
They laughed and chatted, lost in the day,
oblivious to the demons in my way,
I wore a mask, crafted so bright,
yet the tears fell, softly into the night,
I cried for help in whispers faint,
But their backs turned, as if by fate,
A gentle plea, a grasping hand,
Yet they missed the signs, the need to understand,
Now the echos linger a haunting sound,
Of moments lost, of love untold
They stand in sorrow, crying when it's late
Wishing they had noticed,
Before it was fate.
See it?
The cracks, the fractures - open, bleeding.
My mind laid bare, a battlefield of glass,
barbed wire threading through my thoughts,
indoctrinating spirals slicing through every soft impulse.
Chaotic proportionality,
twisted in the wake of your hands.
You constructed this wreck,
hammered rules into bone,
scarred my spine in silence,
every word a shard left to corrode in me.
visceral in every memory,
every cut screams with the echo of control.
Ant still-
you walk on it.
step after step,
your words drive splinters deeper into my skin,
indifference pressing down like stone.
Every slash bears your signature,
every jagged edge charts the space you occupy
while I lay shattered beneath it.
I do not flinch.
I do not move.
I am the ruin you made me,
exposed,
and yet you're still upright,
on the pieces of me
you discarded.
A poet exposes scenes to explore new horizons
unfolding under expansive or confining domes
We slow it down, decelerate, discern
unveiling are a fable's morals and concerns
taking pause to commune with fauna and elm
serenely does nature speak throughout her realm
our phrases linger with new colors
hues vibrant encompass as skylines
our dimensions broaden anew
sentences chosen carefully carry more import
with words nuanced, renewed
with a more sentient bite
with emotions more candid
abashedly bare, a despair founded
with paroxysm of catharsis we quill
weeping of our dormant essence shaken to life
confessions deepening, plunging in thought
letting the afflatus of passion flow
I Am Anaya
quill & inkwell love
11/14/25
Written: May 17, 2025, for contest Sponsored by: Constance La France
Quote: "Abandon this world, so that you may become king of all worlds. Throw away your handful of sugar, so that you may become the sugar field." By Rumi
****************
I left the light on, but nobody could stay,
Then a spark of optimism that faded away.
You perish akin to wind over an altar of dust,
Left whispers in apparel I ceased to trust.
I sighed farewell with the air I still taste,
A timer in a space designed from waste.
I closed all the doors, but one stayed ajar,
Your quiet came in akin to a declining star.
I avoided mirrors that displayed your face,
And left the gardens we felt were our place.
I view you in screens and sense you in sleep,
A specter that spirits would rather not seep.
I departed without scream or sound,
Left love as a tomb in ignored ground.
Now liberty is bare, a frigid sort of sin,
A house without walls, but pain within.
I am simply trying to stay afloat
In an otherwise sinking land
An escape between past and future
An island of pain
Treaded up
Barefoot in the sand
Grains of memories stuck in the creases
Standing is sore
Walking is sore
On my hands and knees I beg
Relief is all I pray for
The physical and mental torment
Occupying a vessel that doesn’t know how to swim
My head hurts from thinking
My hands hurt from holding on
The sun hasn’t risen in a while now
But the clouds bare a similar resemblance
To the ache that wants to be unearthed
Tears and rain, all in the same
A necessary cleansing so we can grow beyond
Each moment falls like petals from the rose,
A fleeting scent the evening breeze may keep.
Each death I die, the door swings closed,
And still I dream in shadows deep.
The past dissolves like dew in morning light,
Its whispers fading, lost among the trees.
No tether holds me back, no tether binds,
I drift, unmoored, where endless seas release.
The present sings—a thread of golden fire,
Alive in every breath, in every spark.
What use to mourn the ashes of desire,
When life awaits beyond the veils of dark?
The future beckons softly, yet untold,
A canvas bare, a story yet to mold.
Each time I die, I lay the weight to rest,
And wake reborn with hope alight, undressed.
Here, now, I stand, no shadows at my feet,
The present blooms, its fruit a gift to eat.
What is your biggest fear? My biggest fear is that when I'm away, I won't be able to save her and when I'm there, she'll need saving. Simultaneously, I'm killing her, leaving her open to an attack that could have been prevented if I offered her advice on what to watch out for or trained her for when the circumstance arises. Yet, I know that the greatest thing she'll need saving from is none other than... me. "When you stare long enough into the abyss, the abyss stares back at you." Is this not what I would do to her? The hatred, killings, and secrets can't remain hidden when you've taken a front row seat to be observed. So, tell me... was it worth it turning around on his knees, laid bare a Henry, pale in skin with no sound of thumping nor exhalations. A cold, grim reaper-like shudder pulsed throughout his body at the sight before him. Crying on the dead corpse that could no longer be called Henry, he lifted his head and looked me dead in the eyes. This blackness is what lies beneath in our souls. His eyes were carved out of the sockets and if you stared into them, it was none other than the very abyss I had talked about. I was staring back... at me.
I walk through the hell ridden hallways
The silence so loud it almost engulfed me, dragging me underneath the freshly polished tiled floor
Each room is a new hellish spectacle
Each person looked like a withering rose, desperately begging for a drop of water to survive.
I walk past them as if I’m better, but I’m not
I feel myself slowly withering away as well
I sit in the waiting room, barely aware of my surroundings
The low, inaudible hum of the tv giving me a sense of comfort
I liked this place, it made me feel safe
It was blank and bare, a comforting contrast to my thoughts
Everyone cared, it gave me a sense of peace
Maybe I would be ok?
I wanted to stay here forever and ever until I wither away
I was first picked up
In a cast-off shop in Liverpool;
Surrounded by racks of seasoned shirts
Bearing names of old soldiers.
“Draper” draped on an immature frame
In a collage of brown and green,
Overlapping and enveloping
Any semblance of a past self.
Baby-faced and militant,
The paradoxical camo in an urban warzone.
Slogans painted from shoulder to shoulder
In pungent, nuclear-white bathroom paint.
The smell is burned to memory,
Singeing nose hairs with chemical vigour,
Of dance-generated sweat, upturned pints,
A lover’s aftershave, the sting of cigarette smoke.
Washed once, maybe twice,
But anxious eyes watched the spin cycle,
Fearing specks of dislodged paint
Covering my muddy canvas.
Now “Draper” drapes a matured frame,
The only scent that lingers is
The petrichor of Northern summer
Tie-dyed deep into my fibres.
I bare a name that isn’t mine,
Memories of a life I did not live,
Scars from battles I never saw,
And honours that aren’t mine to claim.
At six months old dada were the first words
to ever leave my mouth
His name in Hebrew is "son of my right hand"
He is the Boaz to my mother
and the Abraham to my sister and I
He sacrificed his need for higher education
and passed on the torch to me instead
He is both a phenomenal writer
and nature enthusiast just as I am
He missed an opportunity for my mother
to bear him a son from the seed of her womb
but I am positive that if I would bare a male child
He will form an indestructible bond
and cherish him as the son he never had
My father could've been deceased or disowned me
like those of many of my friends and acquaintances
but today he is alive with his soul
filled with health and joy
and always remain faithful to his family
like the lion of his jungle
Although his own father is resting at the gates of heaven
he will always have us
and his spiritual Father on the throne
watching over him day in and day out
A women can bare a child while a good man stand's by her side,
A women can reach into the soul of a man and change his mind.
The difference between a man and a women is their kind,
Kind, is the difference that makes them different.
The confusion of not knowing the difference it is caused by mankind,
Some men have long hair and so do some women that’s fine.
A true women loves with the heart where a man loves because of a women,
To place a man and women as one only causes confusion.
Weather a man or a women you cannot discriminate or separate,
The feelings a man or a women have for each other is to dedicate.
A life without one or the other therefore to raise a family together is,
Impossible, without a man and women to procreate a young child.
Therefore leaving the earth without mankind.
workers sans respite
diligent leaf cutters ants ~
stripping bare a tree
Date written: 03/07/2022
will not give a budge
she always will bare a grudge
never liked my fudge
a slap in my face
no freedom or any trace
was their style and grace
Combat at the Capitol
sure to transpire
Trump liked being a liar
he does desire
how can we forget
things happened we will regret
standard start to set
made analogy
regarding psychology
need an apology
saw Trump swing in swamp
which is where he liked to romp
and do Bristol Stomp
deal consummating
we must be vaccinating
so should stop waiting
began to bereave
after that did always grieve
when loved one would leave
on long trail have trod
when I finally found God
near beach on Cape Cod
on the way to grave
for me vaccination save
then I will behave
Tears soothe heart's sorrow
A shoulder to lean heals the weak.
No soul seals the heart’s pore
The self only pictures its gore.
Humanity needs a shoulder to cry on,
As a star needs a night to shine.
Souls intertwine.
No man fills an island
Even testos do ease in she hand.
Sole forage piles up to forlorn.
A prowl without Devine to call on
Scare's chirping birds the jungles pawn
Like bush foliage raffled and blown
The weaklings and rats scrum
In nature fear and tantrum
But real prey pray to God.
No good the groping of blind
Endeavor on your own
The devil your soul will bind.
The abyss of hell you drawn
On bare a seed you're sown,
Blown by route less gust wind,
On the dumps yourself will find.
When all are fine and dandy
And all are rich and dumb
We'll all go down to randy
and bare a ditch and slum
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