by Austin Lam
Our wounds are expected to disappear;
Time, acting as the Great Healer.
And yet,
That which does not kill,
Has left me ravaged and tired.
I am left on a wasteland;
A post-apocalyptic Hell.
“How have you grown??”
They demand!
I have no more to give.
Sinking its teeth into the crepuscular depths,
Leviathan engulfs the remains.
Searching for silver linings;
Conjuring them in dazed hallucinations.
To struggle yet to
Simultaneously give up.
To stand,
And yet to fall further.
A wrapped up cacophony of painful moans
And groans.
In the throes of disorientation,
I grasp for my freedom.
An adulterated freedom,
That belongs entirely to me.
And so I dance
With the demons, claws dug in.
My blood spills forth;
A pallor-stricken, amorphous Vitality emerges.
“How have you grown??”
They demand!
No answer materializes.
No answer is needed.
I await and
Resolutely Anticipate my death.
I recollect a Self,
Clothed in ambivalent certainty.
—
Austin Lam is currently a medical student at the University of Toronto. He obtained his B.Sc. Honours in Psychology and Philosophy (minor) from McGill University.