BrokenEchoes

A few weeks ago, I wrote a poem as part of my National Poetry Writers Month challenge. (You can read it here .) The inspiration behind it was a recurring situation I face—something that isn’t my responsibility, something I didn’t initiate, but something that still has the power to impact me emotionally. It’s a scenario that feels all too familiar. The kind that weighs on you, shifts your mood, and leaves you wondering if things will ever change. For me, it felt like one of those time loop episodes you see in science fiction shows or movies—where the protagonist keeps reliving the same day or moment, but the catch is, they remember the past loops. They can learn, adapt, and choose a different path, right? But what if that wasn’t the case? What if, no matter how many times you relived it, the outcome stayed the same? What if there was no escape, no alternate choices, and no relief? That was the feeling I tried to capture in the poem—the pain of repetition, the hopelessness of facing the ...

  I have lived this life before But I can’t remember enough to make a change My memories are unreliable and blurry Everyone I meet is vaguely familiar Each face evokes emotions of hidden remembrance Someone’s gait will spark subtle nostalgia Interactions sharpen my focus, but only slightly I recognize when my life approaches pivotal events It maddens me that I cannot recall the significance Or the sequence Thus every sorrow is twice-lived Every mistaken decision is repeated All my pains and miseries are doubled Because I have lived this life before But I can’t remember enough to make a change.

  They have put him in a humid room With white walls and uncomfortable chairs He is alone now, but that will change A new face will enter, and the questions will begin The questions won’t matter The answers won’t matter The words never matter in situations like these But they will develop a pattern between them Back and forth, to and fro, give and take, attack and parry They will smile as they chat There will be the illusion of trustworthiness And the pretence of trust But no one will be fooled In the end it will be an empty conversation In an empty room There will be no impact Everyone’s mind was made up already The decision firm before they entered the room This is what happens I have seen it unfold just this way Countless times in countless rooms I still can’t tell if they put on this show For each other, or for themselves.