Torments by Selda Arslan

His shade races toward me at midnight. The nights become restless when he comes to visit; full of the torments he lugs with him. I cannot bear but wonder why I beckoned such an eternal thing, on a person who I loved.

He demands me to feel the pain of his loss, stares down at me with piercing blue eyes, which collapse into my dreams. He guides me to his death, while he races along dusk. Every nightmare blends into the same demonstration. He kisses my ear with a sharp whisper, “but you wanted this”.

I find myself perched on top of a hospital bed; the smell of the sterile air surrounds the room, a faint glow comes from a lamp located in the corner, a purple velvet chair encompasses the shadow of my grandfather.

He begins to bang on my esophagus, blocking the nutrients of life to enter my body; clogging the access for happiness with a tumor. He then abrades my larynx, now; unable to speak, I no longer can sing the blissful tune of life and am involuntarily forced to use my hands as gestures to unleash my emotions to the world.

With every nightmare, the findings in my chest become heavier, forcing every second of my existence to face this, to face it. His shade begins to come towards me as I struggle to cope with it. His hands are pressed on top of my chest, it’s weight forced on me. My breath now becomes quick; with each breath anxiety fills me.

His cold large hands wrap around my neck; I look up, my eyes locked on the celling, I know what happens next. His dull thumbs violently break their way into my sweet neck, creating a trachea. The bellows of my screams vanish into the dark night, my agony ignored, by the peaceful slumber going on around me.

Blood pours out of me, drowning the floor with my honeyed essence of life. Memories float beneath the surface of this pool, hovering under the thick goo. As my feet dip into the abyss of reminisces, they stain my toes with the un-washable distress.

As the depth of the pond grows deeper, I begin to lose my consciousness, beginning my descent to death. My pulse fading, as he walks back towards his chair. The warmth possessed by my hands slowly recedes. His shade sits back into the chair, patiently waiting for his next visit.


About the Author,

Selda Arslan


Selda Arslan is an enthusiastic, student who is studying English at John Jay College of Criminal Justice. A couple of months ago her dear grandfather had passed away with cancer, leaving her distraught with the emotions of loss. With this poem Torments, we witness her process of grief, as she tries to make sense of it all. Battling guilt and sorrow, she allows her self to finally be liberated as the piece comes to an end.


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