Down so deep,
scraping the bottom—
there you will find
thick residue.
It lives there,
by will of its own;
its position
resolute.
This darkness,
its fathoms untold,
asserts itself
quietly.
It creeps in,
mostly unnoticed,
leeching away
gaiety.
Distorts view,
darkening edges,
until all light
slips away.
Despair then
can blacken the skies,
replacing hope
with decay.
Though you try
to scrub it away—
even think it’s
defeated—
turn your back
for just a moment;
patterns surface,
repeated.
Hold vigil.
Stand fast in your strength.
Never assume
war is won.
Only then
can this blight be held
from doing harm—
rot undone.
Author’s Note:
Sludge came from that space between progress and relapse — the quiet places where darkness waits to be noticed.
Healing isn’t a single ascent; it’s the work of staying aware, again and again, when the old patterns resurface.
As always, thanks for reading. It means a great deal to me, truly.
—Liora
Thanks for reading this piece from Embodied Shadows. If it struck something in you:
– Buy me a coffee — every little boost helps.
– Feed the kitties — daily meals for the colony + Whiskers in the Dark.
– Grab my chapbook — Through the Fire, Vol. I — the words that lit this project.
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Healing is so tough. Often old patterns and dark feelings creep in when least expected and when you feel you've made the most progress
Hey Liora, I’m Lior ☕️just stumbled upon your page and wanted to say hi, have a great day😍