I turn, catch my breath in the wind and pause.
My heart is beating fast, my lungs are full and hurting.
My hands are white shaking, my legs are aching and weak .
My eyes are watering , blurring and misting the landscape .

I look backwards fearfully glancing at where I have come from.
My mind does not want to return, to go back to where I was.
My feet do not want to return to running on the previously well worn ground. I have been here before.
Voices are echoing, tumbling and turning, twisting the truth.
As I whisper a name, calling upon a warrior who fights forever, I feel my fear fading retreating with the darkness , small fragments of light begin to penetrate my mind.
My heart steadies, my will is given a shot of strength.
The discipline of stopping, not running makes me strong.
I train myself to stand and listen, not fleeing and filling my world with emptiness and noise makes me hopeful and eventually peaceful.
The discipline of remembering the promises. Remembering the past joys and victories. Remembering who I am.
I can again look and into the future. I can hear a familiar voice calling me forward loving me back into life.

Psalm 91