Dinner is Served

Through fear I've ran away.

Fear of the cycle of rage

Fear of the cycle of victimhood.

I run through the dark woods, lost, looking for answers. The shadows follow me. Someone, something lurking behind.

I advance my steps.

I follow the light through the dark, I am in green pastures.

The sun kisses my face, the wind caresses my skin,

Flowers have bloomed and my nostrils take in the lavender that has calmed my beating heart.

I sit by a river for rest and am joined by local sheep.

I bask in my surroundings, stroking the wool, looking into the sky. My body at ease.

I am home.

As the day comes to an end I welcome the idea of nodding off into the land of nod.

As my eyes glaze the sheep shift and the wool comes off.

I count my blessings,

The large fangs exposed.

I am at rest.

The wolves feast.