The Weight of Empty Air

Defne SEZEN ‣

The table is shorter than it was last July, Though the wood hasn’ t moved and the measurements lie. The house is a cage that grew cold in the night, Transforming our world by a trick of the light.

I watch how my mother transforms into glass, Bracing for footsteps she knows will not pass. My father is iron, gone rusted and still, A man who’ s been hollowed by a force of the will.

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It’ s not just a sadness; it’ s a change in the bone, A new way of standing when you’ re standing alone. The“ before” was a story we used to believe, The“ after” is a skin that we’ re forced to weave.

We didn’ t choose this, we didn’ t evolve, We’ re just a puzzle that will never resolve. The transformation is the weight we now wear The thick, heavy pressure of the empty air.