A Search Through The Static

I woke with a silence, too loud to ignore,

A pulse in my ribs, like a knock at the door,

The ceiling said nothing, the light wouldn’t stay,

I questioned the shape of my shadow that day.

My vision distorted, my thoughts out of line,

I searched through the static for signs of a spine,

The weight of a life that’s yet to be seen,

I moved like a question that split every scene.

I swallowed my doubt like a bitter old friend,

Its voice in my ear: “This is how it will end”,

But still I got dressed, still I tied my worn laces,

And kept showing up, in these ghost heavy places.

I carry no answers, no map into night,

Just fragments and fury, and a thin hope of light,

I Might build from the ruins, I swore I’d outrun,

Might rise with the dirt, still clinging for sun.

Some days I’m thunder, some days just a spark,

But I’ve learned how to breathe in the absolute dark,

And maybe that’s something, or maybe that’s flight,

I’m not always certain, but I just might.

Cathrine Hottran 2025