Gray

Sometimes I feel so lost, as though the most I can do is survive from day to day. Everything seems gray and dismal. Then, I write. As the words flow from my hands to the page, or to the screen, a little of the pain inside of me goes with it. This purging keeps me sane, or at least keeps me from falling. It's a balancing act. I stand on one foot on the tightrope between Black and White, precariously lingering in the Land of Gray. On one side is hope and the other is the abyss. Sometimes I wobble, sometimes not. Sometimes the Black seems inviting, like a rest from the constant struggle. Sometimes the White seems unattainable, but after all it is hope. So I hold on, and stay here in the Gray.

Caren E. Salas