I hear the echoing of my soul as it fills with despair,
looming before me are shades of black and grays; I
desperately try to climb to the surface of tomorrow to
face my sorrow.
I wake to the day that I have come to dread, it is cloudy;
I could not take this day if the sun were shining and warm
southern breezes caress my face.
The meadow is misty, the creek sparkles as the ripples rush
toward the lake; a fox watches me from behind the tall grass
a hawk screeches above.
Wild flowers bloom where ashes were scattered only a few
years ago; I am mesmerized as a group of dragonflies rise
from the blossoms spiraling toward the Heavens.
The water is cold, the bottom of the creek is soft and broken
branches tug at my ankles holding me beneath the surface; the
current becomes swift and nudges me forward, I will not have to
face another tomorrow.