As the sun shined through the kitchen window she could see her reflection flickering against the wall.

The light now a bit closer to reach… to touch.

Pieces of broken glass stuck to her hair. Dried blood stained her fingers.

Night had become day.

After hours had gone by she lifted her head –

she could now breathe.

Her hands raw –

she crawled down the stairs,

she crawled across the rough carpet,

she crawled outside onto the cold cement –

She crawled not knowing where she was going.

She crawled until she was able to carry her own weight.

She crawled until she realized she was not alone.

Constance Strickland