In those darkest of moments, I hold on to all that remains with blood on my hands and scars in my heart. In this infinite forest of shadows and forgotten light, I’ve made my home.
All this time I’ve been trying to find my way through the thicket and bramble, catching my flesh on the thorns and craggy branches that wish to keep me confined.
I rip and tear, and tirelessly fight against those prickly restraints, trying to find the way out. The way to you.
It seems, the more I struggle, the more I lose. There are days I feel close, like maybe I’ll finally reach my destination if I can just push through the last of the ridges ahead. But every time I reach their peaks, I’m met with an infinite number more to follow.
I’m running blind, scared, and alone, but I’m still searching for signs that says, THIS WAY.
For the first time in a long time, I found a clue.
One tiny, little breadcrumb that whispered, “Over here.” I heard it. And it reverberated through my soul like the cries of a carrion bird.
I cried back into the nothingness that surrounded me, “I’m here.” Nothing but the vastness of the forest responded.
But maybe, just maybe, they can hear me. And if I can’t find them, maybe they’ll find me. And together, we can make that dark and dingy place a home.
After all, being together is far better than being alone.
Written in response to my husband’s article.
© Sarah Doughty