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.

  All there is now is wasteland With a few pockets of humanity Humanity may be too strong a word There are a few thousand of us left But I haven’t seen humanity in anyone Not for decades When most of us died, a lot died with us Compassion, empathy, warmth The air and water turned to poison Some had the means to build defenses Complex air filtration systems Self-contained water reclamation Domes went up over a few communities Soon the soil outside became toxic Nothing would grow outside the domes Those outsiders that didn’t die coughing blood Began to starve before long Those of us inside watched Let them die slow horrible deaths But the environment inside was fragile It could only support so many Could only feed so many Could only house so many To keep our community alive We had to leave our souls behind Now emotionless survivors are all that remain Now we are truly lost.

  It grew quicker than I could have imagined It started small and manageable I should have dealt with it then I should have addressed it, and ended it It has grown large now, heavy Its mass increases more the longer I wait I have waited so long that I can no longer lift it off me So now it loiters, taking up more and more of my life Compressing my chest, taunting me,  I am powerless to solve this myself No help is coming Soon I will be crushed Soon I will be killed Under the weight of this neglected monstrosity.

  I had a feeling Deep and disquieting I worried that this might happen There was a chance I could be wrong But I wasn’t To no one’s surprise, You met my abysmal expectations I am trying to help you I want to help you But you must contribute also If you want to get better You must put in the work Do you? Do you want to get better? I’ll keep trying if you will start.

  Here we are again Same as before Nothing has changed We have no new plan We have no new information We keep trying And we keep failing I won’t last much longer We must make some progress We have to make this work Or I will fall apart Into lifeless chunks That crumble into fine dust That are carried away on the wind The atoms that I was Never to be reunited.

  New things are fresh for a day Old ones are rotten forever Once the novelty fades Everything is lumped together And it is all the same as it always was The flicker of peace dissolves Into the surrounding miasma of mundane Sometimes I feel that these short-lived moments Do not merit the necessary labor So much struggle For so little I remind myself that these tiny rewards Are all I have All I’ve ever had And all I dare hope for.

  I’ve seen enough beginnings To know how little significance they hold The new purple and yellow flowers of spring Are just as brown as everything else come fall The red-haired hopefulness of youth Goes grey, and regretful, and angry It is just the way things are Always decaying Engaged in the slow march of entropy Novelty dims As the new dream dies Replaced by an even deeper malaise We must resist the urge to celebrate We must repel the suggested promise of renewal Lest we be disappointed Forced to drink our fill of despair.

  At a simple gesture The fetid mass begins to glow and undulate The warm of skitterlings scatter, Fearful of new events The chill, damp air softens And a breeze stirs the deep dust Bringing a gentle warmth Unseen here in ages The murky film of muck crumbles from the glass Piercing rays overtake the shadowy corners This diseased, abandoned hovel is transformed At a simple gesture.

  My soul aches The dull pain seeps into my body Drains my spirit Breaks my heart I am no longer myself But a broken, misshapen version Of who I once was.