Rest, rarely came easily.

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Layers poured out and symbols created visions into a staccato of emotions.

It wasn’t pretty or kind. It was raw.

She had to speak but words were sealed. Panic tasted rancid. Resistance only channeled more pain. She walked quickly through passages where time overlaps into a restless slumber.

Where dreams are a fugue — dark, even by daylight.

The bloody, nakedness of death greeted her once more.  She watched from above and stared in disbelief.

Is this it? Is it the end? How can she take much more? She beg, but no one heard.

The corpse sickened her. She was embarrassed how it was splayed for all to see. She pushed away from the ledge and gathered her own legs. All of them. For when fear struck, two became 98 and her center fragmented. Her breath hardly filled a thimble. Dry heaves forced tears into a lashing rain.

Rest, rarely came easy.

Her eyes opened into a respite of tree branches; arms embraced the sky. Graciously bringing her back to the present and rinsing the raw visions from a latent prison.

Another layer had been witnessed. Breathing slipped into softness as she folded into the warmth of a blanketed cocoon and sighed.

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About Carolyn Riker

A creative explorer using the magic of imagination, surfing the sea of understanding and finding bridges to connect it all.
This entry was posted in Captured Moments, Let My Voice Be Heard and tagged , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to Rest, rarely came easily.

  1. Simple Thoughts says:

    A most beautiful, poetic description of anxiety and panic. Thank you for sharing so that others know they are not alone. ❤

    Liked by 1 person

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