Author's note: This was first my stream of consciousness, which began as ramblings thrown into a paragraph, but Mr. Johnson helped me clean and freshen it up. This also represents one of my own healing processes I went through last year.
As each step prolongs,
and my heavy feet stomp,
to the top I go,
my faithful expedition.
Each stair is a memory,
each memory a weakness.
This castle tests me.
My limits, and my hope.
The more I travel onward,
the more this place strips of me.
First all the physical, for no
protection is sought here.
Clothes turn to cinder,
but I do not blink.
I do not pause my breathing.
A soldier in battle is what I am.
Only that this
Battle is for my sanity.
Mental walls come crashing
landing in the seething waters below.
For these spiraling steps
start to extend, as if never to finish.
With the coils of transportation
come whirs of thoughts.
People, faces, beings, places.
All of my past. Each cold foot-fall
sends freezing pain up through,
but the wind calms it.
The wind.
The breath of a loved one.
Calming the nerves.
Up I go. Still climbing.
Reaching this castle.
My personal dungeon.
My lovely escape.
