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 The doors of hope swing shut with hollow clang. The safety net unravels, a taunting haunt. Photo by Nastia Petruk on Unsplash

Caesura of the self

"Aut Caesar aut nihil."
– Cesare Borgia

In the empty spaces between footfalls, we find the echoes of our departing selves.

Placeholder image made in Midjourney v5.2

Absolution in Ink -rewrite

I haunt these halls-

a shadow stitched to linoleum,

a footfall in the hush

before the bell.

Each step is a gauntlet,

each breath a blade

against the throat of morning.

I write in the dark,

a final flare,

a phosphor script

on the bones of night.

To you-

students, seekers,

I leave a map:

let knowledge

be your lantern,

let truth be your teeth.

To you-

creatures curled

in the crook of my arm,

I leave the rhythm

of my hands,

the scent of my sleeve,

the promise of a bowl,

a window cracked for sun.

I have walked

the splintered roads,

worn my shoes

to the quick.

The streets wait-

mouths open,

hungry for the softest thing.

I cannot feed you

to that hunger.

So I script my exit,

one last rebellion

against the cold machinery

of indifference.

If death is mercy,

let it be a rest.

Yet even as I fade,

I see you-

in rooms of laughter,

in arms that do not tremble.

Let this vision

be the balm

that steadies my hand.

Let these words

be my last decree:

in every line,

a piece of me breaks free,

to hover, to guide,

to light your way

when all else fails.

The remnants of a life: scattered papers and the last letter written in a dim, cold room where 

hope has faded. The final echo in an empty space. Image by Midjourney v6.

3. Tender Echoes in Ink - revised

“Non omnis moriar.”

– Horace

I am-

but who deciphers

the static in my marrow,

the flicker of a filament

spitting sparks

in the socket of my skull?

I am the vessel,

cracked and brimming,

where anguish sloshes,

tide against glass.

This world-

a crooked scale,

its fulcrum rusted,

its verdicts cold as coins

dropped in a well.

I tumble through

the hush of halls,

my pleas ricocheting

off marble, off memory,

off the backs of those

who never turn.

All I cherished-

ghosts in the fog,

fur and feather,

warmth and weight.

I write goodbyes

with knuckles white,

each syllable a shackle,

each phrase a pebble

dropped in the well of my chest.

For those I taught-

let your questions

crack the shell

of every easy answer.

Let hope be a howl,

let your laughter

shield you from the wolves.

For those I fed-

I’ve left the list,

the blanket,

the sunlit window.

Forgive me-

I have run out of doors.

I have begged,

bartered sleep,

mapped alleys,

counted sheep.

But the night keeps gnashing,

the dawn never breaks.

I am the last note

the violin makes

before the string snaps-

snap-

a hush,

a hush.

But I dream-

you, curled in a shaft of light,

you, safe in the hush of a home.

Let my leaving be a door,

not a wall.

Let my words be a bridge,

not a stone.

In the hush,

may you hear my hope.

"I pen farewells with hands that tremble, ache, / Each word a weight, each phrase a shackled sigh." Image by Midjourney v7

I am! Yet who discerns the self I bear?

My essence flickers, dimming like a star.

I am the vessel where my anguish dwells,

A mind in constant spin, both near and far.

This unjust world, its balance torn and lost—

Yet still I am—I live—though tempest-tossed.

Into the storm of cold, dismissive eyes,

Into the swirling sea of disbelief,

Where years of earnest, documented cries

Find no safe harbour, no shore, no relief.

All that I cherished fades into the mist,

My faithful friends, my comfort near-dismissed.

I pen farewells with hands that tremble, ache,

Each word a weight, each phrase a shackled sigh.

For those I've guided, nurtured, strived to wake,

Instructions flow like tears that never dry.

The care, the love, the dreams we've woven here—

Unravelled by the threads of fate, severe.

And for the gentle beasts who've shared my heart,

Whose fur and feathers soothed my weary soul,

I trace provisions for when I depart,

Each line an arrow through my being's whole.

The thought of parting rends with searing pain,

Yet homelessness would be a crueller bane.

I've fought, I've pleaded, scraped for any aid,

Exhausted every path, each avenue.

But now the hour comes, the choice is made,

To end this dance, to bid this life adieu.
The shame, the guilt, they claw with vicious talons,

Yet suffering's spectre looms in stark equivalence.

There's solace in imagining their joy,

In homes where love will be their steadfast guide.

Though I'll be gone, my spirit will deploy,

To guard and bless them, ever by their side.

And in that thought, a fragile peace unfurls,

To ease the ache within my shattered world.

So ink becomes my voice, my legacy,

The tether that connects me to their light.

Each caring phrase, a token of what's lost,

Each fond remembrance, armour for their fight.

I'll slip away, a whisper on the breeze,

But in these letters, part of me still breathes.

In silent screams, six sides shatter;

Unheard anguish, a voiceless cry;

Broken bonds, trust torn asunder;

Shadows creep where hope runs dry.

Unheard anguish, a voiceless cry;

An unbreakable shape, now unmade;

Shadows creep where hope runs dry;

In darkness, a tortured soul betrayed.

An unbreakable shape, now unmade;

Scars unseen, a secret hell within;

In darkness, a tortured soul betrayed;

Wounded healer, touched by sin.

Scars unseen, a secret hell within;

In silent screams, six sides shatter;

Wounded healer, touched by sin;

Broken bonds, trust torn asunder.

Amidst the onslaught of festive frenzy,
Neurodivergent minds reel a tempest here to sear.
Senses assaulted, relentlessly vexed,
Christmas chaos leaves us perplexed.


Masking's breaking, taking weight, a suffocating shroud,
Authenticity lost in the neurotypical crowd.
ADHD autism's ache, an adult's disgrace,
So, invisible struggles are present in this merry place.


Pain's persistent, pounding refrain, an endless score,
Fibromyalgia's claws, forever tore.
Spine curved like a question mark,
Vertigo's dance, a dizzying arc.


Poverty's clutch cuts deep, leave plans in disarray,
Opportunities vanish, like mist in the day.
Isolation, depression, chronic cursed alone,
In a world where bonds stretch, then are gone.


Trauma mars, leaves scars, rape's brutal seal,
cPTSD's tortures - terrors forever real.
Triggers flashbacks, a minefield within,
Clock tick-tocks, the night's wearing thin.


Passivity creeps in just like a mischievous elf,
A sinister spirit keeps us captive, steals our self.
Painfully forcing out a cry, on deaf ears they fall,
"You knew they wouldn't", it sneers, "more unanswered calls".


In despair's abyss, hope's flicker dies,
As the world rejoices, behind a joyful disguise.
Countless unseen battles and unheard cries,
Anguish, desperation, pain, do naked eyes lie?


To those who feign concern, a warning rings clear,
Your platitudes and neglect, a deafening sneer.
For in the depths of despair, a reckoning brews,
When the desperate depart, with nothing to lose.


In the sombre, silent night, when alienation reigns,
The psyche buckles, under the weight of its chains.
Remember, you who turned a blind eye,
The blood on your hands as the outcast dies.


So let the silence shatter, let the truth be known,
For the neglected and broken, forever alone.
May their memory haunt, may their absence resound,
A damning indictment, of the help never found.


Silently in the night, isolation's doom looms,
For those left to rot, in desolation's tombs.
A scourge on false kindness, on empathy's dearth,
As the forgotten depart, from this merciless Earth.


A warning to those who still pretend to care,
Of the anguish hidden, behind festive despair's lair.
Family friends forsaken in desolation's night,
Cast aside, ignored as time ticks on, year's plight.


In the silent night, a dirge ascends,
For those struggling, lost at the year's end.
Society's apathy, an unpalatable bitter pill,
Washed down with tears, we fade away against our will.


Let the silence break; let the truth be told,
Of the torment endured, the agony untold.
In summer's sweat, a reckoning should rise,
Power imbalances now, no escape our fate's demise.


May our ghosts haunt the whole season bright,
Reminding us of those for whom this time's a blight.
In the season's glare, coalescing shadows reign,
Numerous reasons, curses feeding this pain.


A moment of stillness, amidst the hurricane,
A flicker of self, in the endless pain.
Battered and bruised, yet still we stand,
In defiance of a world, that refuses to understand.


Whilst it is true, many times I have tried,
But for my animals, it is on me that they rely.
As night follows day and day follows night,
Dark forces frantically fighting, stealing my fight.


Hope's a medicine, both a curse and a sure cure,
Healing if repeatedly given - the source pure.
Decidedly dangerous, deadly, dangled as a prize,
Breaking faith's wraith, soon you and society they'll despise.


A pox on ableism, on empathy's lack,
As we vanish slowly, our lives off-track.
In the silent night, our requiem it plays,
The forgotten ones, left on birthdays and holidays.