Once upon a time life was good.  Not easy, but good.  She was the protector, the provider, the producer, the nurturer.   She worked hard and was rewarded with the abundance of life.   

He came - a gift from life, in all his abundance of good and bad.  He saw, not always what she saw, and she began to see through his eyes.  He gave her calm.  He gave her peace.  He too was a protector, provider, producer and nurturer.  

The distance between them was greater than their time together.  So their time together became a dance…a waltz.  A melding that bonded them in their distance, to reunite them in well worn comfort and harmony.  

Then one day a storm came.  It smashed through her, shattered her reality.  It left her glaringly exposed.  All her pain, her fragility, her brokenness.  

She felt the pressure, the whirlpool, drawing her into its depths.  Deeper and deeper.  Whirling.  

She’d breathe a shallow, desperate breath, trying to see through the tears.  Her past;  fading, blurred.   Her future;  darkness.  

As the past faded through the tears, and darkness continued to descend, she found a shelter in the depths of the darkness.   She shrank into its safety.  Stripped of everything, she clung to the dark walls.  The pain in the darkness could not be seen.

The sun shone, but she did not see, she did not feel.  

As the sun shone, persisting in its endeavour, she would move further and further into the depth of the darkness, until there was no deeper.  

As she became one with the darkness, it began to push her away, shrouding, but releasing. slowly pushing toward the light.  The light began to draw her from the darkest depths, one ray after another, touching the core.

She responded, slowly at first, breathing in the warmth, letting go of the dark.  Then as if awakened from the worst nighmare, fragile but whole, she emerged.  The other side of the tunnel.

The birds they sang 

at the break of day 

Start again 
I heard them say 
Don’t dwell on what 
has passed away 
or what is yet to be. 
Ah the wars they will 
be fought again 
The holy dove 
She will be caught again 
bought and sold 
and bought again 
the dove is never free. 

Ring the bells that still can ring 
Forget your perfect offering 
There is a crack in everything 
That’s how the light gets in. 

Anthem - Leonard Cohen

And at the dawn of my new day, I breath deeply, warmth and light through me.  My future as welcoming and revealing, as a  day unfolding in the morning sun.  My past, still there, on the other side of a tunnel, that sheltered me, in my night.  A past now a distance away, not something I cling to.  A past I can look back on, yet, move forward from.

Life delivered the good and bad in all its unexpected ways.