Most of what I have written here is free writing; only recently have I returned to prune out dead wood! My nature has always been one of spontaneity -- devil may care?
An unwelcome dawn comes creeping upward, her tendrils straddling the dark mountain so terribly near my once sweet but now quaking refuge called home of the heart.
It took me a while to answer! Sorry. Thinking back to actual times of childhood, the dark mountain was, literally, Loma Prieta. Ordinarily, one welcomes the new day; however, the dawn that broke upon our desolate cabin in the Santa Cruz mountains presaged gloom and despair: a murder had been committed in the entryway of our hovel somewhat before our moving in. Metaphorically, this unfortunate occurrence has cast a pall over my life. Even my heart of hearts has been scathed. Of course, I'm taking this event and transmuting it into a reason for the emotional instability that has colored my little life.
I'm a story teller, not a realist. Then I learned the Truth and -- subsequently -- TTATT. The so-called dark and cruel wood of religious error swallowed me and my students alive. I have been freed but what of them who remain jailed? Talk about blowing things out of proportion. Thanks for asking . . .