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Survival of an Empath by Louise Worthington

Survival of an Empath

The voices around her shout their woes.

Her whole house


The walls begin to shake

Melancholy breeze pries its fingertips

Under her bedroom window

Gusts through the keyhole

Whistles tunelessly under the door

Taps with brittle branches at the glass

In a rhyme of chaos

Till Empath is shivering blue,

Choking on pain.

She buries herself under the duvet,

A white pillow over a hanging face,

Wiles away the sunny day in curlicues of shadow

Until the articulation of winter’s frost and drifting mist

Settles on the bleached floorboards

And Empath can rise from her solitary bed

Leave unsteady footprints through tears

Weakened but alive.


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