Scribblings by Sarah

Reasons for Admission

My reasons for admission?
Shall I tell you?
Do you really need to know?

For years I’ve stayed tight-lipped.
But my ego has become a prosthesis,
that no longer fits;
that I no longer wish to wear.

I have become an inconstant texture –
The clang of discord, congesting my brain.
I’ve tried to think in reverse.
Gunshot wounds, fighting the fire.

Too much seduction and disappointment,
have led to these dissolute habits.
This yummy life, a pipe dream.
No longer solvent.

Is it self abuse?
To listen to this incessant gurgling.
Or am I required, like the olive tree,
To be patient for the fruit.

So reasons for admission?
You decide

By Sarah ©2021

Prompts: Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie, Sunday Writing Prompt and Wordle #238

A-Z Challenge, Challenges by Sarah, Haibun, Poetry by Sarah

A is for Anxiety

Author’s note: This is my first time completing the A-Z Challenge and even before it begins, I have been struggling to come up with a ‘theme’ that I am completely happy with. After flip flopping from one idea to another, it struck me – my theme should be anxiety! Battling on and off with anxiety for years, I can certainly write about every element of it from A-Z! I also want to use my favourite poetry type as the form for writing, so will write a “Haibun a day” for this challenge. Hope you enjoy coming along with me for the ride…

Things will be going along just fine. Life is grand. When suddenly it begins again. That familiar sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. Invisible hands twisting at my gut. My brain turns a switch and I become consumed. Anxiety steals my joy and takes the living out of my life. I feel the heaviness of it settle over me. It seeps into every pore, and controls every waking thought. I am the host of an unwanted guest. I try to distract myself but I’ve played this game too many times for it to work any more. I try confronting it. Calling it out. Silently I scream, “I can hear you!” but it never stops. It can always scream louder and longer and is unrelenting. It’s like wading through a solid black fog. It may lift for a while, liquify; but it will never clear.

I dream of being free.
No longer living this nightmare.
I dream to be me.

Not anxiety.

By Sarah ©2018

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Image credit Tumisu via Pixabay

Prompt: A-Z Challenge, 1 April 2018 – A; and also, Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie, Saturday Mix – Opposing Forces, 31 March 2018; guest and host, liquid and solid

Scribblings by Sarah

Walking Away

What a slippery time has been had this year.
A shock really, that I haven’t been broken.
Always taking care to screen my face and
lock my tongue, so it doesn’t run away.

I have leashed a chain around my thoughts
as I realise the shards of discontent.
Instead of hitting out, I hit the grass with my shoes.
A walk can always cure what ails you…

By Sarah ©2017

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Image credit Pixabay

Prompt: Sunday Whirl, Wordle 330. Words: broken, time, slippery, shock, screen, chain, shard, grass, runner, tongue, lock, shoe

Haibun, Poetry by Sarah

The Black


Image credit Laura Makabesku

The darkness had finally shown itself. Though she’d tried to keep it at bay, it had edged its way out. It had been a fluttering of feathers; tickling at her conscience. Then, an unfurling of wings, covering her hope. She tried to hold it close, clutching it to her breast. Tried to absorb it back into her soul, where all things secret lay. But it was too late; she was exposed for all to see and she was terrified. Rolling up her shadow and searching for light, she could find nothing, but the black.


fallen from the light
the raven calls me again
shadows descending 


By Sarah ©2017


Prompt: Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie, Photo Challenge #177; Colleen’s Weekly Poetry Challenge #47 – light and shadow; and also, Daily Post Daily Prompt: black

Stories by Sarah

Walking The Line

She walked the ridge line, as though walking a tightrope. There was a sheer drop on either side of the thin, rocky trail, and she felt truly terrified. The ice and snow made each step precarious and the dark chasm on either side of her was dizzying. She tried not to look down; placing one foot after the other, ever-so carefully.

The wind didn’t help matters. It whipped fiercely around her, flapping her long black skirt and rocking her balance. With one hand she tied back her hair, as the long black strands lashed her face and obscured her view of the rocky corridor. She kept her other hand outstretched, gripping an invisible rail to steady herself.

There had to be easier way to reach the tower, she thought to herself. She longed for refuge within its strong, solid walls. It’s warm light – a beacon; seemed to be drawing closer at an agonisingly slow rate.

Suddenly a gust of wind knocked her sideways and she slipped. Hanging by her finger tips to a rocky shelf, the chasm yawned below her like a hungry mouth, eager to swallow her in one gulp.

Mustering all her strength, she pulled herself onto the shelf, shivering and breathing hard. That was a close call. Once she’d steadied her nerves, she stood again and continued picking her way along the trail. She hugged herself closer to the ground, lowering her centre of gravity. She was not willing to risk falling again.

Fatigue and hunger were starting to assault her. She trained her thoughts to the task at hand and recalled the words of her hiking buddy, Helen.

She conjured Helen’s smiling face, quipping her favourite words of encouragement, “All you have to do is focus your energy on picking up your foot. It falls down all by itself!”

The memory made her smile and strengthened her resolve. Pick up left foot. Pick up right foot, she commanded herself. It was pure mind over matter. Helen believed she was going to make it, she believed in herself that she was going to make it…and she would!

She reminded herself that the road to recovery was long and hard, and weaves a lonely, rocky path.

And sometimes you’re only one step from falling into that black hole again.

By Sarah ©2017


Prompt: Daily Post Daily Prompt – invisible, and also, Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie, Photo Challenge – 6 June

Stories by Sarah

Slipped

Before I knew it, the rope had slipped from my grasp.

I cursed as I watched it slither beneath the surface of the rippling water. Not again! I thought helplessly. The boat slowly drifted away from the dock. How long til I can get back this time? I wondered.

I was sure I’d fastened it properly. I’d been practising the rope knots, just like they’d shown me. Oh, well. There was nothing to do now but wait.

The boat bobbed rhythmically with the ebb and flow of the tide, lulling me into a light sleep. Five, ten, fifteen minutes passed and when I opened my eyes, I was alarmed to see the distance I’d drifted from the shore. The land was nothing more than a speck. I looked around at the horizon of unrelenting flat blue; my silent companion.

I began to wonder if I’d deliberately unmoored myself.

Losing your mind is like that.

By Sarah ©2017


Image by bigjom at FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Daily Post prompt: unmoored