Seven years ago, I was introduced to a song that would forever change my life, a song that would become an anthem, an autobiography I could sing in the late night when disheartened or driving towards a light at the end of my murky tunnels.

That song, from an album that to this day remains a top twenty, is the title track, Haunted, by a vastly underappreciated singer named Poe.

I frequently quote the lyrics for the song, drawing my primary online identity from my favourite line:  Time to gather up the splinters, build a casket for my tears.”  It seemed fitting in its imagery as I began a quest to find happiness after years of misery in childhood.  I wanted – needed – to bury the past somehow.

I can’t say I’ve managed to keep it all beneath the ground;  the dirt shifts loose, and tendrils wriggle free to snag my ankles, twisting and pulling me back to my knees.  But along the way, I’ve found a dull blade.  It saws through slowly, but surely, buying moments of reprieve.

I need something sharper.  I need a cleaner break.  I need to exorcise the lingering spirits that wander behind me, delicate shadows darkening my periphery.

I need to no longer be haunted.

Day 103:  Haunted – Poe