Fractured Light: A Poem of Weariness, Wounds, and the Will to Rise

There are days when the world feels like a spinning lie —

where every smile flickers false,

and even your own reflection won’t meet your eyes.

That’s where Fractured Light was born.

From a place I rarely let anyone see.

From the weight I carry beneath the surface — not as a poet, not as a voice —

but as a man.

This poem is not mythology.

It is not Sophia or the Seer or the fire I often cloak myself in.

It is the wound itself. Unadorned.

And I’ve chosen to show it.

You’ll find no grand flames here.

No prophecies. No chants to redeem the world.

Just silence. Ache.

And the breath it takes to rise again.

Read the poem. Sit with it. If it speaks to your pain, let it.

If it doesn’t, let it pass like a quiet rain.

But know this —

it’s real.

I am real.

And I will not stop.

For the rest of you who walk this strange road with me,

through poetry and fire, through grief and myth and strange declarations of joy —

you know where to find me.

Read the full poem: www.alkonda.com

That is where I live — and where all my poems come to rest.

With love,

Al Konda