When the night falls heavy around me, I sit in a rocking chair and close my eyes.  The house where I live has rockers everywhere: on the porch, in the bedroom, in the sitting room, in the living room.  I feel most serene on the porch, any time of day, late at night, in warmth, in the soft rain or surrounded by a strong wind.  The air washes over me and I simply sit, eyes closed, heart quiet, waiting for the demons within me to release their grip.

As the night air caresses my raised face, I open my eyes  but remain sightless and unfocused.  Images rise, voices murmur, thoughts churn.  I press my eyes closed.  Motionless, I seek  something long buried,  inviting the flickering light to strengthen and rise.  I remain still, breathing in, breathing out, letting my hands fall open as the chair gently rocks and my soul speaks to the ages.