‘the door closes. . .
there’s no light;
silence as loud as a freight train - there is no way to breathe;
no way to get the breath from that which surrounds you to your inner cells. . .
The quivering in your stomach won’t let you take a deep breath . . .
as though you’d been crying for hours;
but there were no tears.
This is beyond belief, and without thought and words,
there is no way to define and explain
to your soul the inexplicable and utter darkness that ensues.
You reach out but you can’t possibly know whom, or what,
it is your are reaching out to . . .
you are frittered, and a sorrow ensues that is beyond measure.
You try to breathe again - needing someone to walk you through;
anything - any thing - anything to hold on to.
Some are fortunate, and a kind friend will sit quietly with them:
that alone is a comfort
more needed than the air that refuses to fill your lungs.
You are drowning; and in this seamless place you keep looking for the surface . . .
reaching for the light;
but there are times it is nowhere in sight.
Hold on, you say to yourself . . .
and you hope you have the strength to do so:
hold on, you tell yourself - it will pass - but you only vaguely believe it.
Hold on . . .
just hold on;
and if you do . . .
the light will come through.
Klaas Tuinman M.A.
Life Self-Empowerment Facilitation
at Dawn Cove Abbey
Comments and Questions are welcomed