A raven follows me in my dreams. She watches with a keen eye. Her dark feathers make her impossible to be seen in the dark place. She has always been there, watching, observing. She has witnessed my deep suffering and she knows my plight. In the dark place, I stumble trying to find my way out. I cannot see my hands in front of my face. The raven’s piercing cries are my only signal. The dark place refuses to let me go; it is a parasite that feeds on me day and night. It renders me lethargic. It allows just enough life for an existence, but nothing more.
I am breathing but I have not lived in years. It slowly drains my life force as I crawl toward the cries of the raven. My movements are slow and my will almost non existent. The raven beckons me, but I don’t know where. I had seen a light here before in the distant past but the dark place has hidden it from me. What I would give for just a glimpse of that light, to see it at least once more.
. . . My thoughts consume me.
I crawl on to my unknown destination in the dark place. The raven flaps her wings ahead in the distance. Will I escape or am I resigned to my fate? The question I ask myself is almost rhetorical as the hope I once had is blown away like leaves in the wind. My blood boils as I think about the years of torment in this place. I will gather up my will for one last valiant try.
The raven senses my resolve.