In the midst of my pain,
Hold me ever more tightly.
The memories of my past
haunt me daily, appearing
as visions in my dreams

The future beckons, the
hand paints, the voices
call. Fear stalks the
hallways, the voice from
my past warning me,
apparitions, circle around,
baiting, mocking, laughing.

"You will fail", they say.
"You are bad, they taunt."

"Begone", I command, "Let the
Light in. I am meant to
be in joy, with God
as my guide. And so it will
be."

Travelling down the pathways
of my unconsciousness, I come
to the well to drink. I see
the waters, I see the promise,
and am afraid.

I call out, beseeching you to
show me, to give me a sign.
Either I am blind,
or there is no sign.

"Doors are closing," you say,
"opportunities are being lost.
We need to move, and now."

My ties, and what I
carry weigh me down. As I
groan under the load, feeling
like a pack horse about to
crumble.

"Help me", I beseech, slipping into
my underworld. Trying to emerge,
a butterfly escaping his
cocoon. I pray, I cry, I fly.