I have come
to
a place where
my
threat no longer lives.
He
is gone.
Forever
gone,
ashes
buried in the earth.
Still
I find
I
feel fear
threat
anxiety
washing
over me
threatening
to drown
waves
surfers wait for
as
challenge of their ability.
Depression
so dark
it
is impossible to see anything
in
front of me
and
I struggle between
living
with it
accepting
what he is still
doing
to me
even
in death
or
looking up
toward
the peak
seeking
hand and toe holds
no
matter how small
to
grip on
my
way back.
I
decide to look up
even
in the midst of a moonless night
and
I reach
feeling
for that small but strong
ledge
to grab onto
and
a toe hold
where
I can dig my toes in
and
push pull my way up
out
of his death grip
moving
slowly
with
a goal in sight:
the
peak of the mountain.
It
is an almost impossible climb
from
hell's depths
to
this season of healing.
I
will make it.
No comments:
Post a Comment