Sound Of Sorrow Poem by Faith Cecelia Story

Lately, my mind feels like a dimly lit room,
a place where shadows linger longer than they should.
A quiet fear walks beside me—
whispering that my heart may fail,
that perhaps my time is quietly folding in on itself.

I do not know where this feeling began,
only that it arrives more often now,
like a tide creeping further onto the shore each night.

The world feels smaller than it once did,
yet my mind feels unbearably full—
crowded with questions,
with uncertainties that have no names.

Sometimes I feel as though
I am trying to please a thousand expectations
with hands that are already tired.
And still, I do not know what triggers this heaviness,
what silent switch turns the light dim.

Perhaps it is the quiet knowledge
that my Story stands in a darker place
than I ever imagined it would.
Perhaps it is the unsettling feeling
that the faces around me
are no longer as familiar as they once were.

At times I feel used,
like a page in a book
that everyone has read
but no one truly keeps.

I look at my children
and I pray they will rise higher than me,
live freer than me,
touch the world without it pushing back.
Because sometimes it feels
as though everything I reach for
finds a way to resist my hands.

This feeling settles over me like weight—
a quiet, suffocating presence
that I suspect feeds the storms in my body,
the rising tides of my blood pressure
that surge without mercy.

Today is no different.
Even the simple desire to speak,
to answer a phone call,
to participate in the world—
feels distant.

There are a few lights, though.
Someone who makes me smile.
My children, always my children—
they bring warmth to the edges of my heart.

Yet sometimes the dark cloud above me
is so wide, so heavy,
that it swallows even those small rays of light.

It feels like watching a storm descend,
lower and lower,
until the sky itself disappears.

You can almost see the end of the tunnel,
a faint glow somewhere ahead—
but you never quite reach it.

And so my mind wanders in this dimness,
questioning everything:
friendship, family,
even the intentions of those closest to me.

Clarity feels distant.
Uncertainty sits beside me,
closer than breath.

I do not know what the end of this road holds for me.
From where I stand,
the horizon does not look kind.

But somewhere, quietly,
I still hope
that I will walk long enough
to see the light break through this darkness.