The Old Woman and the Upside-Down World

The Old Woman and the Upside-Down World

She woke late, her body heavy with illness, the kind that even makes breathing feel like labor. The holiday had passed quietly, but its ache arrived late, creeping into her morning like a shadow.

From behind her door, she heard the vacuum roar a sound that felt less like cleaning and more like a drumbeat of hostility. She peeked out, she looked at a hard look at the person vacuuming and chose silence. Withdrawal was not weakness; it was preservation.

Bills sat on the table like stone weights. The rent was higher than she could afford, electricity bills claimed their portion, and unexpectedly steep car payments proved to be overwhelming burdens for everyday people like us. She wondered how anyone carried them without breaking.

But the weight was not only financial. It was the world itself, pressing down. Hate and distortion filtered from the top into the lives of regular folks. Division seeped into conversations, turning loneliness toxic. People cut each other off, not because they did not care, but because they were already drowning in their own anxiety.

She remembered hearing a friend cry once, holding space without interruption. Yet when she tried to speak of her own heaviness, she was cut short. In this upside world, empathy had become rare, caring had turned fragile, and human feelings were treated like burdens too heavy to share.

Still, she wrote it down. Not as despair, not as an end, but as witness. A record that humans have feelings, that loneliness is real, and that silence can be both shield and wound.

Spoken Word Cadence: The Old Woman and the Upside World

Inhale

The holiday passed, but its ache arrived late.

An old woman wakes, her breath heavy, her body ill.

She hears the vacuum roar

not cleaning, but a drumbeat of hostility.

Exhale

She withdraws, not in weakness, but in preservation.

Silence becomes her shield.

Inhale

Bills sit like stones on the table.

Rent demands more than she has.

Electricity insists on its share.

Car payments rise like mythic burdens,

numbers she never knew could be so high.

Exhale

She wonders how ordinary shoulders carry such weight.

Inhale

But the burden is not only money.

It is the world itself, pressing down.

Hate filters from the top,

division seeps into conversations.

Loneliness turns toxic,

friends cut each other off,

not from cruelty, but from exhaustion.

Exhale

Humans have feelings,

yet in this upside world, empathy has grown fragile.

Inhale

She remembers listening once,

holding space for a friend’s tears.

She did not cut them off.

But when she spoke of her own heaviness,

her words dissolved into static.

Exhale

She writes it down.

Not as despair, not as an end,

but as witness.

Chorus (breathed):

I will not cut off care,

but I will cut off harm.

I withdrew, but I did not vanish.

I preserved, but I did not surrender.

The Old Woman and the Upside World

She wakes in the late morning, her body heavy with illness, her breath slow.

The holiday has passed, but its ache lingers, arriving late like an unwelcome guest.

From behind her door, the vacuum roars not as cleaning, but as a drumbeat of hostility.

She withdraws, not in weakness, but in preservation. Silence becomes her shield.

written created edited by

Vicki Lawana Trussellli

Trusselli Art

OUTSTAGES Cafe Production