Burn Me

Let the fires of Hell rain down
And consume me if they must
But don’t make me leave this town
The only home I trust
A place of love and freedom
Despite the words I write
I can’t imagine leaving
Though I try with all my might
The gypsy blood’s retired
Well that’s just how it seems
Something that’d never transpired
Even in my wildest dreams
But my feet are growing roots
Deformed and stunted though they be
And I don’t give two hoots
Because here I can be me
I can love and laugh and play
Explore the world and inner self
Getting more settled every day
Than I have anywhere else
So let those Hell fires burn me
I don’t really care
To uproot for another journey
Completely fills me with despair


I do not want to leave here
Please don’t make me go
It’s the only place I’ve found
That’s ever felt like home
The thought of having to leave
Cuts me like a knife
The tears flow so freely
For the first time in my life
There’s no way to explain it
But I feel like I belong
And the idea of moving
Couldn’t feel more wrong

Mt Biondello

For the second Sunday in a row, I am standing on top of a mountain. This time, however, I am completely alone – no daughter beside me, and no other people out adventuring.

Although this is only a hill compared to Mt Ngungun, of Weekend Callenge #3 fame, it was, in many ways, much more challenging for me. For a start, I took it on all by myself. Also, although the walking track is much smoother than that of Mt Ngungun and there aren’t any stairs, some parts were a much steeper incline, making my body work a little harder for the reward of a rest at the top.

The week between the two climbs has also been challenging – the possibility of having to leave the only place I have ever felt truly at home, insecurity at work, the destruction of trust, the loss of love, high anxiety levels, a panic attack, and almost 24 hours of non-stop crying – it’s been a heck of a week!

Sitting here alone, on top of this hill that is known as a mountain, I have plenty of time and space to contemplate things. I am, however, distracted by the beauty of the sights and sounds around me, and by the deep sense of peace rising within.

Most of the things causing me stress and anxiety at the moment are beyond my control, I know that, and I know I need to be patient and have faith everything will be as it is meant to. Unfortunately, waiting is not, and never has been, one of my strong points. Waiting, uncertainty, ‘limboland’, whatever you want to call it, is one of the surest triggers for my anxiety, and even after all this time I have not yet found an effective way to cope with that state of being.

Getting out of the house, and continuing to challenge myself to live every moment like it’s my last is definitely a far better use of my anxious energy, however, than sitting at home, drowning in my mind.

Feel free to share any anxiety triumphs, challenges, or experiences in the comments below – how do you refuse to hand over control to your anxiety?


There’s a cockatoo who sits in the tree,
And watches with interest at me being me.
He occasionally chats and asks, “How you doin’?”
But mostly he just watches my coming and going.
Every now and then, he hangs with a mate,
And I’ve sat and watched them as they ate.
How lucky am I to have such a friend,
Upon whose company I can always depend?