Until recently, I never understood the true impact that the traumas throughout my formative years could have had on the confident life I lead in the present.

I put off therapy for a long time, believing that whatever I was feeling was just temporary. With the help of those close to me, I finally accepted that I am not okay and that I need help. I wrote this poem on the train a few days before my first session.

The light is clear,
The grass is green,
And the sky blue.
All seems in order.

But venture far,
And a chasm appears.
A deep depth,
Shrouded by shadow.

I venture too close,
And trip on the edge.
I am slipping,
Slipping.

Suddenly, a desire rises,
A desire to let go,
To let go and fall.

It's dark and I’m tumbling, fearful.
Heavy wind forces its way past,
The turbulence loud in my ears.

Yet as the wind rushes past,
So does the shadow.
The shadow is leaving.
I can see it escaping into the sky…

It’s quiet.
I feel rocks under my feet,
And hear the flowing water.
I look around.

I am in a gorge,
With a winding river.
Clouds paint the blue sky white.
This is new country.

Thank you, Rutaban Yameen.