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short poem

Sorrow’s Vertigo

The song of fragments
stitched together by memories,
The wound must bleed.
The lasts are more important than firsts
the last word
the last time
the last place.
empty lies on the promise
of better tomorrow.
Sorrow of seconds dissolved in minutes
heavy heart in a discolored room.
It keep coming
in the past, present and future
From wishing on falling stars
to fall like stars.

~🧜‍♀️

By Kajal

Hello there, Kajal here! I started blogging in September, 2018. It was purely random as I needed a space to pour my heart and thoughts out. This place is like my safe heaven where I let my fingers and feelings run free to curate poems and to rant about things that are bothering my thoughts. My journey here has been bittersweet and wonderful at the same time. But because of all the love I receive here, I keep coming back to read and to write.You all have been great support and advicers to me and I'm really grateful. Your feedback, emails and comments keep the mermaid inside me going :)

15 replies on “Sorrow’s Vertigo”

“The lasts are more important than the firsts.” Ironic that I should read this after just posting a piece about the “firsts” of last year. Ironic, too, that we don’t always know when we’re experiencing a “last” – the last time you say goodbye to someone, your last birthday, last Christmas with the whole family together… Treasure every moment.
As I stood outside on New Year’s Eve, listening to the fireworks going off in the distance, I did wonder whether 2023 would be the year I leave this world. Not in a morbid way, but the future life is going to be so much better than this one, I’m really looking forward to it – but first I need to finish whatever God put me here to do.

Liked by 1 person

You inspired me to record my incoming voicemail message for January (I change it every month with an encouraging word/quote based on season).

This month, I invited callers to discover many colors because life would be dull if we lived a paint-by-number canvas. I desire variety yet crave security. Gritty blends of life.

Thank you for sharing your generous wisdom, Christina

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