resilience

11. Schrödinger Soliloquy II (4 ways)

A person in a dark coat stands with arms crossed against a textured, cracked glass background, casting a shadow that appears contemplative and introspective.

Four ways to view a soul: each fragment a path, each reflection a different truth. Placeholder image by Midjourney v7.



Schrödinger Soliloquy II (4 ways)



In the crucible of choice, I stand alone,
A shattered mirror, reflecting shards of soul.


 

To forge ahead or yield to undertow?
Each path a perilous journey, still unknown.


 

The voices whisper, "Surrender, cease the fight,"
Yet in the depths, a rebel spark ignites.



"The void will soothe, oblivion will save,"
"Persist, resist, let hope rewrite this night."



I am the chessboard, king and pawn in one,
Each move a battle, ending scarce begun.



The game is rigged, the rules a twisted jest,
But still I play, for in the play I’m blessed.


 

Though scarred and weary, I will rise again,
For I have grown beneath the weight of pain.



A phoenix born of ashes and of tears,
With wings of wisdom, forged by countless years.


 

In sorrow’s crucible, I’ve been refined,
A tapestry of wounds and grace entwined.



Each thread a story, each scar a sacred sign,
Of battles fought, of losses, victories mine.



I choose to dance amidst the flames once more,
To craft a life from fragments on the floor.



For in this struggle lies a strange sweet art,
Transforming brokenness to healing’s start.



I am the alchemist, the lead, the gold,
The tale unfinished, waiting to be told.



So I’ll rewrite this ending, line by line,
And prove that hope, not death, will be the sign.





Author's Notes/Comments: 

 

 

 

The concluding poem embraces ambiguity and the radical potential of choice. Inspired by quantum uncertainty, it explores multiple pathways through despair and hope, leaving the final outcome suspended, yet ultimately gesturing towards the power of self-authorship.

 

 

This poem explores conflicting paths and can be read in several ways:


 

1. Reading only the first line of each couplet for one narrative. 
2. Reading only the second line of each couplet for an alternative narrative. 
3. Reading the couplets sequentially as an internal dialogue. 
4. Combining lines from different couplets to find other nuances.




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Desperate defiance in the dark

Desperate defiance in the dark

 

 

Voice vanishing, vaporised by virtual vitriol

Algorithms amplify absence, abandonment

Words once winged now wither, wane

Trauma's tendrils tighten, twist, torment

 

 

Silence. Deafening. Oppressive. Inescapable.

 

 

Childhood's cruel cacophony echoes, endures

Rape's raw rage resurfaces, relentless 

Abuse's ache amplifies, accumulates

Gaslighting's glare grows, guts grace

 

 

A chill wind of indifference swept through the room, leaving me shivering and unseen.

 

 

Neurodivergent narratives, now nullified 

Vestibular vertigo, vision vacillating

Fibrous fire flares, flays fragile flesh

Depression's darkness deepens, devastating

 

 

The empty chair across from me seemed to mock my solitude, 

 

its vacant seat a cruel reminder of my isolation.

 

 

Social streams shrink, shrivelling slowly

Platforms purge purpose, passion, power

Identity invalidated, invisibility impending

Self-worth withers like wilting flower

 

In silence, I found solitude; in solitude, I embraced silence

 

Yet still, soft syllables simmer, survive

Waiting, whispering: "We will rise."

For even silenced, stifled, suppressed

The soul's song softly, surely sighs

 

 

Through the hollow halls, past the empty rooms, 

 

beyond the echoing silence, 

 

a single, defiant voice dared to speak

 

 

In the depths of this suffocating silence, 

A flicker persists, refuses to die. 

Though the world may try to extinguish our light, 

We will rise, reclaim our stolen sky.

 

 

.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

This is perhaps, one of those "My struggle doesn't look like your struggle". 


Perhaps also, as the first person I showed this to, was unsure how to reply. Eventually they said: It is like you are bleeding straight onto the page.



They continued, keenly observing that. "People do struggle in knowing what to say. I think looking away while you’re so vulnerable is a relic of patriarchy: waiting for you to put your armour back on and get back up and keep pretending we’re all fucking fine."

A hand full of air

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Yes, yes you can! 

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