The Pressure of Extraction

I feel the pressure

of having to extract myself

from my disorder

as we clash and don’t align.

It distorts my true desires;

instructs my thoughts

to feed me lies.

I don’t want to

be associated with

the labeling of my mind.

It turns me into somebody

I no longer recognize.

Tortured,

battered,

bruised by my own being.

I’ve become nauseated

from the smell

of who I’m becoming.

Inches away from this disorder

locking me in—

into the corners

of an identity blemished by sin.

But as the darkness closes in,

I hear the voice of a humble King:

he tells me no one defines me

but his blood.

It clothes me in freedom,

my suffering undone.

He says follow me

and by his supernatural strength

I come.

The sweat on my brow

evaporates in the sun.

I walk with more ease

as I’m held by his grace.

Now I know what

it means to have faith.

It’s like letting loose

my grip on the reins,

trusting the one

who redeemed my life

from the grave.

Aches and pains still

aggravate my soul.

But I know this King

goes before me,

preparing the way

to make me whole.

about the poet

Amber North is a biracial woman born and raised in Montreal, Canada. She has roots in the Caribbean through her maternal grandparents. She is currently studying English Literature with a minor in Theological Studies and is set to graduate by the end of the fall 2025 semester. She’s always loved creative writing from a very young age, but it wasn’t until the pandemic in 2020 that she picked up an interest in writing poetry in her free time. She hopes to bring awareness to the mental health challenges she faces and to shine a light in dark places.