There have been days I thought I would die.

A spring day with empty lungs and desperate body

rammed between a submerged rock

and the angry thaw of the river.

 

There were days I thought I would welcome death.

Layers of pain inflicted by an ectoparasite

ate away the connections to those around me

and sucked out the pleasure of my days.

 

There was a night I thought death had entangled me.

A solo sail when a gust turned the jib sheet

into a snarling snake around my ankles

pulling me into the deep hush.

 

There was a night I courted death.

Walking without clothes into the winter storm.

The stabs of its icy wind ripping the fabric of my life

and freezing the feet of my foundation.

 

There was a night I courted death.

Walking without clothes into the winter storm.

Walking without intention to turn back

Walking without direction, walking.

 

There have been days.

There have been nights.

Days and nights

I thought I would die.

Margaret Rauenhorst got off the Greyhound bus in front of Boynton McKay in Camden during a snowstorm in 1977 and decided to stay. She practices Jin Shin Jyutsu and reconnective therapy in her center on Start Road where she continues to write and contemplate.