The Exiled

A testament to the absence of humanity.

Photo by Tasha Jolley

And yet here we are again,
at this very juncture of memory.
For want of a bloodless day,
and a blissful night.

Welcome 
to the city of gloom and doom 
where tears get swallowed up 
by the never-ending rain.

The sun dares not tarry
lest it gets snatched up 
by the devouring hand.

Here lie:
the broken bodies of the living dead.

Dejected remnants 
from the era of treadwheels 
and human sacrifice.

The ones who gave away everything 
for the rights to exist 
in the here and now.

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“Also thou shalt not oppress a stranger; for ye know the heart of a stranger, seeing ye were strangers in the land of Egypt.“

- Exodus 23:9

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Context

I don’t usually explain my poems as i believe poetry takes on a life of its own; each reader finding their own meaning.

However on this occasion I am called to share a little glimpse.

This poem depicts how it feels to be at the mercy of systems that demand your body and your soul in exchange for survival.

The “living dead” are those who survive even as they feel hollowed out by these situations in which they have no control but also no way of breaking free.

It is the sort of sacrifice that makes you lay awake at night thinking:

“I know what this place has taken from me.”

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© The Forgotten Muse 2025

Hi, I’m The Forgotten Muse.

A poet, a storyteller, and a kindred spirit to anyone who has ever felt like a victim of their own mind or a prisoner in their own body.

If my words found you, I hope they stayed with you. If you’d like to stay connected and support my work, please consider subscribing and making a small donation.

Love and Light, Always.

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