Anxiety

Two breaths to the finish line

And he is nowhere to be found

I am free

My senses, glad to be back in unison

As if they all had returned from a distant journey

We are relieved that he is gone

But before two breaths

Was an almost breathless marathon

He almost makes me think he’ll go easy on me

Till seconds after an utterance or two

He starts to choke me

I struggle to let out my voice

But they all can hear

A voice that resembles nervous notes

Of a woodwind instrument

My fingers at the slightest touch, turn vibrating strings

My guts, a wrung cloth

And my feet, they aren’t sure if they rest on ground

This marathon, he’s there every step

But I see the finish line

He sees it too

We both have a fear

He is my fear, and the finish line, his

Because freedom awaits on the other side.

He is my anxiety.