To all of you

To those of you here whom I, rightly or wrongly, consider friends I apologise for my absence these past weeks. I make no attempt at excuse save to say that I have been in a dark, dark place fighting for my sanity, my health and for my life – for my very soul.

I bear new scars, I am weary and heart sore but the battle, for now, has been won. My soul is still my own and I can stand on my own two feet – just.

For this victory I owe you all debt of gratitude; your writings were a lantern in the darkness; they gave me hope and the strength to continue the fight. I could not ask for your strength in this fight that is my own, would not for it was never my right to do so. But though you did not know it, you gifts sustained me – Mistakenmagic; your passion and the heart that you lay open to all in your beautifully crafted words chased all thought of defeat away in the darkest of moments. Jenny Skinner; your joy of the art you have embraced, your gentle determination gave me the hope I so badly needed, You convinced me angels exist; to see the best of them take a look in the mirror. Highhat; I’m sorry Pia that I didn’t get back to you; at the time I had no strength to do anything but survive but I’ve thought of you often. Your willingness to keep fighting your foe of language kept me going when I felt there was nothing left for me to give. And to the others not mentioned by name; my fellow writers; I have so enjoyed reading your work and hearing your comments on my own efforts I hope that I have the strength to write more and will certainly take the time to read yours.

These are the first words I have put to ‘paper’ in these months and it is only fitting that they are words of thanks to you and apologies for the presumption of considering you my friends.

Hopefully there will be more words to come, stories and poems for your pleasure or pain and I will try to catch up with your works and voice my humble opinion.

But one last apology, the battle is won but not, I fear, the war and there may come a time when I must give my strength to battle once more for warrior born am I, and warrior I shall die.

I can do nothing other than fight though oftimes I have longed for the surcease, for death’s cold embrace and the wondrous reunion that lies beyond. And fight I will