Ghosts
A journey through the moments that grief threatens to swallow and the path through to the other side
Sometimes I
Can’t see the light
I stumble, aghast
Knocking shins
Up hard against
The ghosts of my past
“Excuse me”
Meek apology
But no response comes
I spin round
My feet unsound
Inside my blood hums
Shadows play
To my dismay
No one there at all
Hands clench tight
Search for the light
Careful not to fall
Darkness drowns
Becomes profound
I make myself small
Knees to chest
Much more compressed
Curled into a ball
Shallow breaths
Unresolved deaths
Press deep in my mind
Ghosts linger
I must think here
Of what’s left behind
Touch three things
Textures they bring
Breathe in, and breathe out
Shift to now
I disallow
Mind to bow in doubt
Engage sense
I must dispense
Of thoughts that harm me
Stretch back out
I turn about
Treat myself warmly
Give me grace
I can’t erase
Losses that bound me
But I can
Rise up again
Build light around me
Must be brave
My ghosts, they wave
Welcome in my life
In their debt
I won’t forget
For them, I must strive
Author's Note:
This piece came from the quiet persistence of memory: how trauma leaves echoes, and how healing is often less about forgetting and more about making space. Ghosts isn’t a descent; it’s a return. A reminder that when the past stirs, we can meet it without losing ourselves. — Liora
voice through fire | www.liorawrites.com
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