Recovery Through Writing

My CIA

My CIA

Tall and tenacious the mountain stood

Orange, yellow, and red-decorative wood

Unwilling to budge despite my intention

Conquered it was, with wisdom’s retention

Fellowship, a curious group collected

Trust and companionship, I’m truly infected

Clasped at the hands, walking a wire

Couldn’t have taught me more-my desire

I ascended the mountain broken and frail

Unable to cope and concerned I would fail

On this journey, once alone and frightened

I descended a man greatly enlightened