The Journey

This is another of my "regression" series where I wrote down images that came to me during the therapy session I had. As I always say, "I don't care what anyone's beliefs are on this topic, hope you just enjoy the poem on it's own merit!"

I run headlong amongst the gorse, along the cliffs; the sea below. My worn brown brogues trip over stones, my homespun skirt fights cold, wet wind. I call until my throat is hoarse, but screams are carried far away. At last I dare to look below and see such terror within the surf. A broken boat, a broken man - lying crushed upon the rocks. The future ends upon that sight as gladly I fly down to him. And into sweet oblivion.