It is always there,
Hanging over her head like a subtle threat.
It devours her soul and waits,
Suspended between last night and the next.
At times she ignores it and goes on with her life.
Other times she grabs a hold of it with hands too frail to grasp for anything else.
It is familiar.
Sometimes she believes it is gone,
Only to feel the sharp stab of reality as it mocks her hope that it would not return.
People tell her to ignore it.
It doesn’t exist.
It’s all in her mind.
She should just pray about it.
It’s that easy.
And she can beat it.
She beats it and she lives life courageously.
She feels deeply and she loves passionately.
But it seeps silently into the most vulnerable fissures of her soul.
And she feels defeated again.