Walking through the woods, step by step, baby steps.
A lush forest, golden dappled light.
The world is beautiful.
A hand to guide, pulling away, the ground goes cold.
Flourishing leaves turn brown and fall, they crunch beneath growing feet.
Shadows start to jump, growing as the sun sets.
The dark creeps closer, so you fight not to be afraid.
Being afraid is being weak, the hand told you.
The world isn’t nice to fragile things.
One missed step, and the ground vanishes beneath stumbling feet.
Falling, falling, falling, crashing to the bottom.
Get up, keep moving.
Pull together shattered pieces, tighten binds on bleeding cuts.
The wounds will heal, the scars will fade.
The road is rough beneath limping feet.
Bite your tongue, keep moving.
There is light, flashes of warm sun in a tunnel of cold stone.
Safety can be reached, and the end of the road.
Blood has stopped dripping, broken bones are straightening.
One slick stone, water sweeps under shaking feet.
Keep your head up, float.
Try to escape, try to get back to shore.
The water pulls around you, dragging you in circles.
The pool sends you somewhere new.
Thrown into a new land, the world is harsh to unsteady feet.
Where to go now? The hands never told you this.