Stepping Stones From Here To There

From Monday to Friday the rollercoaster ride,
The first day I felt scared and wanted to hide
I guess that I knew the journey I would make.
I knew to make each jump I'd have to forsake
My safety net, even harder learn to free fall.
Arms flailing to balance, need to give my all
Stop myself from drowning, teeter on the edge
Then leap for the next slippery stepping ledge.

One step a day, but each a million miles apart,
Drifted back through hurt, back to the very start
Of thought; sank in words that cut like a knife.
I plumbed the depths, reached the heights of life.
I stood inside a rainbow, touched a golden sun,
Like a yo-yo on a string, in a whirl I was spun
Rose to the top, plummeted, felt emotional pain.
Before I landed safe on a stepping stone again.

By Tuesday I'd opened up my softest inner place,
Memories pushed down were pulled for me to face.
Brought before my mind where I was made to view,
Picture dead loved ones, even those I never knew
My unborn, five lost between conception to birth.
That long Tuesday there wasn't any time for mirth.
Ahead a raging torrent another chasm to cross,
Behind a lifetime in a day, all for one word, 'loss'.

That night it was hard my self control to keep,
Visions floated, pervaded even my deepest sleep.
Inside me, as I chased rainbows, my heart pounded.
I held on to the familiar, as nightly noises sounded,
The dog's bark, a creak, my dear husband's breath
Tried to evade nightmares, dark dreams of death.
I wake winded by the experience, but more alive,
Wednesday I am ready, for the next stone I dive.

Determined to learn I listened to everything,
Felt fragile, as delicate as a butterfly's wing.
Time seemed to stop, appeared to be suspended,
I became part of a group and we all befriended
Each other, supported, gave valued feedback too,
And the tutor, very skilful, knew just what to do
To get juices flowing, which words would tempt,
Led us through memories, no one was exempt.

Thursday was different, a day of slowing down,
The group went on a trip to London, went uptown,
Saw in an art gallery a spectrum so fantastic
A model, a changing rainbow, made of plastic.
Wrote I felt the rainbow's colours, stood inside
The intensity and vibrance, nowhere could I hide
From the feeling I was so rich, owned the world,
While the ever changing hues around me swirled.

Friday, the final stepping stone of that week,
Still hadn't quite found what I'd set out to seek,
Wasn't sure I had ability to be a good writer
Didn't feel my worries had become any lighter.
I looked back, like taking a book from the shelf
I'd taken time out, allowed me to be myself,
Monday I was scared, Friday I was sorry to leave,
Wondered if I'd ever in my writing skills believe?

Was I ready to leap off the last stone to the shore?
Pages had been written, was it over? I felt unsure
If on my own I'd have the courage poems to write.
For a moment I almost faltered, maybe lost sight
Of the fact I've always written, probably always will,
Painting verbal pictures is a dream I harbour still,
I'd moved on, brought my pen from the shadows into sun
Gained strength, now as a creative writer I had begun.