by Laura Via
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Recent poems by Laura Via
Rise & Smile
The Dying Moon
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I can hear them, soul transmissions
that echo ... they ping and reverberate
in chaotic fashion.
Make it stop!
Shut them up!
No longer do I wish to feel all that
tread this path I walk along, leaving
behind echoes of some former position.
Hair pulling and scratching will not
make them go away, only leave me bloody
Each transmission is like a knife that
travels through the heart, piercing the
soul in the deepest possible way. I
want them to just go away! Yet, some
linger, whispering in murmured voices
that leave me straining to hear what
they are saying.
Little child, lost along this darkened
path, trodding on through forsaken
forest I am. Gretel, perhaps, with
no breadcrumbs to follow. Hugging
knees and rocking, this brings no
If only ...
... if only!
My transmission was heard.
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|Reviewed by Adam Walsvik (Reader)
|I recently went off my medication because I wanted to just finally surrender to the delusions and voices and die in a dream. How sane it seemed at the time. What I ended up doing was plunging myself into hell. I'm back on my meds now and probably will be chemically dependent for the rest of my life. That's a drag but it's well worth it. I hope you're safe.
|Reviewed by Tami Ryan
|A painful transmission! I especially liked this:
"Gretel, perhaps, with no breadcrumbs to follow." What a terrific analogy! (Boy, I could relate to that one.)