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The Forest ……chapter 6… Storytelling for anxiety and all those feelings…..

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This morning I heard voices. I clung to the table in front of the window and eyed out into the daylight as I saw two people walking briskly by, I remember that, they walked side by side. I froze, they laughed, as they snaked the path into the greenness and were gone. It seems so long since I fixed my sights on other people. They were dressed for hiking with sturdy foot wear, like mine, I remember them stuck in the mud.

You know I wasn’t even sure at this moment that my voice actually still worked, I hadn’t spoke for so long. I hadn’t even talked out loud to myself, not a word, not a hum, a song, a phrase, nothing. I’m now aware that I need to be ready, I need to rehearse my vocal cords.

I have been following a set routine to last the day, finding comfort in the conformity. The cabin now seems familiar and I feel I have come to know every floor board, the ones that creak, where the drafts come in, where the sun rises, the sound of the birds, the stream running at the back of the cabin and the wind and the sound it makes brushing the leaves.

Something is not right within me. I see the world outside, people walking, talking and laughing, I stay quiet within, I hold my breath within, I keep myself within. There is fear within these walls and fear outside of these walls. I no longer have the presence of comfort. I feel I can not rest. So why do I stay hidden when I want so much to be found, to be rescued?

So what is it that I fear the most?


Daily Prompt: Singular Sensation

Daily Prompt: Singular Sensation

If you could have a guarantee that one, specific person was reading your blog, who would you want that person to be?

Doubting Teacher

These are words
Words of mine
That tell a story
In a line

Words can have a
Message to tell
That I can write
On paper and spell

Things I may find
Harder to say
But that doesn’t
Cause any delay

For what I can
Write on a page
Will stay noted
And can’t age

Words that may be
Forgotten at will
But writing down
Will live until

My words live here
In rhyming state
Where I can freely
Write, Think, Create


The Written Word


Words flow on a page
Climb high, running low
That dance on a string
Of the violin and bow

Words that can convey
The pattern, the rhyme
Sound the music to play
In calypso time

Words magically cast
A decadent spell
A kaleidoscope view
A story to tell

Words that take flight
Then flutter on by
That spell “The End”
As the say Goodbye