Alphabet Soup
A Poem about Grief
Abandon all hope, ye who enter here, for
Beyond this place, there be dragons.
Cold are the corners of my mind, dire warnings on signs and
Deep are the fears that keep me rooted in place.
Each step is a cacophony, a symphony of sound that echoes
Filling me with despair as the
Giant stirs in its slumber behind glass walls.
Healthy? What does that even mean?
I haven't been healthy in years, but I
Joke about the pain to
Keep it quiet, sedated, sleeping in its coffin
Lest it wake, ravenous, and swallow me whole.
Many mornings, noons, and
Nights, I lurk. I hide, still and silent, in the shadows
Of my own decrepit, crumbling
Psyche. The safety of the
Quiet is my sanctuary, my only
Refuge from the monster that lurks within.
Speak not its name! Don't even spell it out.
To call upon it could send me reeling into an
Uncontrollable spiral, but I was never
Very good at being quiet, anyway.
Would you believe that
Xylophones make terribly noisy tiles for a floor? Even if
You tiptoe, light and breezy like a
Zephyr, a melody escapes to wake the grief.
You're gone. The memories invade like
Xenogenic ghosts shattering the glass
Walls I've built up so carefully.
Voracious, driven by a need to consume,
Unanswered and unanswerable questions
Take up all the space in my mind I was
Saving for new memories. They
Rip me apart, reminding me why I must learn to
Quiet my mind before there's nothing left.
Pieces of my tattered heart float around the space
Once the monster has feasted on your
Name and the pain of it resting upon
My lips. Sated and satisfied, the monster
Lies down in the wreckage and returns to its slumber.
Keeping to the shadows, I gather the tatters
Just enough to function and then
I get to work sewing them back together.
Heaps of glass and stone are
Gone, replaced with walls and windows by morning.
First light finds the monster gone and the rubble reconstructed.
Even so, the fight is never over. Not really.
Don't mistake a sleeping monster for a dead one. These
Crumbling halls are inhospitable, and you'd do well to stay away.
Beyond this place, there be dragons, so
Abandon all hope, ye who enter here.
About the Creator
Michelle Truman | Prose and Puns | Noyath Books
I fell in love with speculative fiction and poetry many years ago, but I have precious little time to write any. It was high time I started making Prose and Puns a priority, starting with Purple Poetry, Auqredis, and the World of Noyath.
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Reader insights
Outstanding
Excellent work. Looking forward to reading more!
Top insights
Compelling and original writing
Creative use of language & vocab
Heartfelt and relatable
The story invoked strong personal emotions
Easy to read and follow
Well-structured & engaging content
Excellent storytelling
Original narrative & well developed characters
Masterful proofreading
Zero grammar & spelling mistakes
On-point and relevant
Writing reflected the title & theme
Comments (1)
Wow!! This is so amazing. Very real and so many emotions. Also, it took me a minute to figure out what you were doing with the alphabet, but when I saw it I was like 🤯 Excellent job!