THE INVISIBLE CHILD
By Wendy: Shywalker


For the fourth time this week, I wake up bathed in a
skin of sweat. A skin that slowly slides down my body to soak
the bed below me. I am sore. My bones have again danced in
my body's unsettled dreaming. I am so tired of that tune.

The invisible child came again last night, fearlessly walking
past the dragon that guards my mind. With no dread, he
entered my dark place--the place that, even I refuse to go.
He wakes my ghosts, rubs my wounds so they are raw and
bleeding; until they are screaming for me to see them.

This invisible child is my shadow; my reminder of the
world that was left behind. He wakes me when he thinks I
forgotten, or when he believes that I am refusing to accept
that he once was real.

The invisible child, a silhouette of what I once was--my
invisible child--is me.

End