Featured Poet - Garima Sachdev Kapoor

TRIGGERED

Every heartbeat is a seismic tremor, threatening the fragile equilibrium of my existence. 

The notion of a "trauma stimulus" is a paradox, as my triggers sprawl across the vast spectrum of existence, both tangible and intangible. 

It's akin to constructing a sanctuary on shifting sands, a constant battle to maintain stability amidst an unpredictability.

In the theater of life, I play a role I never auditioned for—the unwitting antagonist of my own narrative. 

The revelation strikes like lightning in the darkness of self-awareness. 

Happiness, once spontaneous, carefree, and unburdened, now transforms into a haunting echo.

Efforts to escape the deluge of irrationality prove futile. 

I push against the current, but it's an unwavering force, inexorable waves that submerges reason beneath their tumultuous torrents. 

As the waters rise, the life rafts of solace are elusive, occupied by the fortunate few. 

The life rafts of understanding and solace are elusive, occupied by the disembodied echoes of those who claim to comprehend.

Triggered, I stand on the precipice of pain and suffering, breathing their toxic fumes. 

I acknowledge the warning, yet for me, there is no sanctuary. Relief remains an elusive mirage, a distant oasis in the unforgiving desert of the turmoil which I am succumbing to.

ABOUT THE POEM: The poem attempts to explain what is happening inside when a with mental illness, triggers become a part of everyday life. Depression feeds off rumination loops, leaving a sense of loss of control. This pain and helplessness can be overwhelming and that is where the support and understanding of loved ones becomes vital.



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DINNER

Amidst the stillness of the evening, dinner lay untouched, 

Its warmth lost to the passage of time. 

The spiced aroma lingered almost nauseous, 

A faded memory of a hungry soul and an appetite that is forced. 

In the quiet solitude, tears flow like a gentle stream,

They aren’t boreal like the meal that stares,

Their warmth is bestially comforting. 

The cold dinner can wait, 

But the tears…like liquid embers, 

The tears must find their determined dance in his eyes.

Perhaps the tears knew that food was cooked saltless.

ABOUT THE POEM: Mental health often affects appetite … the desire to eat diminishes and food becomes flavourless. Physically, one may hear the insides screaming for nourishment, for food, but mentally, the will to eat dissipates. The poem acknowledges this struggle when one can go the whole day without putting anything in the body.

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THE WATER WITHIN ME 

Like a waft, I rise and fall, carried by the tides of emotions which churn and collide relentlessly. I watch the unpredictable waves that rise and crash, my feelings surging and receding with resonating intensity. Swirling currents of joy, sorrow, and everything in between guide my inner billow. The mesmerizing shoreline sculpted by the sometimes deceptive caress, and other times fierce impact of waves echo the landscape of my being. Just as the ocean's wafts crash against the shore, my feelings crash against the walls of my heart. I ebb and flow, constantly changing, shaped by external forces and inner currents. 

Momentarily I become serene, and a welcome tranquillity overtakes. But storms surge once more, stirring up strife within, fierce and overwhelming. 

And then I remember to breathe. I lay my trust, as the pebbles discover their place in the sand between my toes. Like a wave, I find solace in knowing that even the stormiest seas eventually find calm; that despite the turmoil, even the most tempestuous waters ultimately unearth their balance, bringing a sense of renewal. I have faith that my most tumultuous feelings always eventually retreat, leaving behind a resilient and ever-evolving shore.

ABOUT THE POEM: This poem compares the emotional whirlpool within us, to the waves of water in an ocean. Symbolising sadness, depth, feelings, and death, we are reminded that like water flows, like waves crash and are never still, emotions too are constantly in motion. 

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MY LASS POURS LIQUID BLUSTER

Within my hyaline of auburn gold, mesmerized by her vulpine gaze, 

My rehomed black lass angles the crystal, liquid eddies at its edge. 

I remain unseen, my presence veiled, 

Dwelling in the shadowed depths until she reaches the nadir. 

A subtle signal, a beckoning

I extend an invitation, welcoming the colleen into my furtive realm. 

She indulges me until consciousness melts the ice in my glass. 

I taste the essence of obscurity, decanting myself into the dram.



As I savour the defrauding performative saviour,

I swear my black lass tilts her head and laughs.

ABOUT THE POEM: This poem shows the painful link between depression and alcoholism. The black dog is a word likened to depression and here she urges more and more drink to drown the pain. Those of us who support loved ones with depression have a vital role in recognising that alcoholism may not be unconnected and blaming will not help.

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IN A HOUSE FULL OF LOVE

In a house full of love

I learned something new today

I learned how to weep quietly 

I learned how to stifle tears

I managed even muffled sobs

All in a house full of love

I did something new today

Perfectly quietly 

Perfected crying myself to sleep

A breaking heart

A piercing pain

All is mine 

In this house full of love

I’m certain He didn’t create many

I’m certain I’m His special 

To feel what I do

To be who I am 

Alone…

In a house full of love

ABOUT THE POEM: This poem recognises that despite being surrounded by people who love you, when facing mental health challenges, one can feel terribly alone.

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DARK HOUSE

In the obsidian void of a house, I grope blindly. 

Shadows embrace, secrets hide, longing for solace. 

White noise echoes, seeking salvation amidst the dark. 

A beacon, a flicker, a shard of light to guide.

It is not that the house is pitch black, 

But shadows find a way to play their haunting game,

My own turmoil seeks a light's warm embrace 

For taming my eerie thoughts, easing my restless night. 

Guiding through the labyrinth of uncertainty and fear.

Darkness clings, a suffocating shroud in every corner it resides, 

Yearning for a glimmer, a luminous source, a saving grace. 

In the depths of obscurity, the rooms echo secrets, only some are mine

The heart of the dark house is my solitude and gloom collide, 

A solitary candle's dance, a symphony of soft, gentle flames. 

In its gentle glow, my weary soul strains for solace and respite, 

But I need more…

So, I’ll wait for the sun's touch in this hushed abyss

ABOUT THE POEM: Sometimes when depression takes control of one’s mind and body, even going home can be hard. It may be a reminder of all that one should be dealing with, of guilt towards loved one’s of failing responsibilities and often a reflection of the imposter syndrome. At times like this, light of any kind may be what can drive off the black dog. This poem shares a link between the need for light and depression which loved ones supporting mental health needs of family or friends can try to recognise.