My steps are steady, because my life is heavy. There is no room for light treading, padding, through this quicksand. These footfalls are my lifeline, high, marching, meant to carry blood to my heart and lightness to my soul. The path is ominous, sometimes lighted, but mostly shrouded in thicket and sand. The air is thick with oppressive moisture, making it difficult to breathe cleanly. Panting, I’m always panting. There are a few hands to guide me, lend a hold when I stumble, but never fall. Most are there to grasp me, hold me, push me, tear at my skin while swatting the others away.
“Breathe deep, swallow hard, fear gone, carry on.”
Close your eyes, tilt your head up, breathe in, don’t stop. The reason you’re traveling, lies just over the dune, and nothing is keeping you from a sight for sore, almost blind, eyes. From the sounds that no shell can replicate. The best part, the shuddering deep breath that will only cleanse your toxicity laden lungs. I’m used to breathing heavily, but this heaven on earth, it allows me to catch my breath.
“Breathe deep, swallow hard, fear gone, carry on.”
Some days are lazy, but most are too quick. Leaving behind a wanton need for rest. Always happy to say goodnight, but never quite prepared to greet the sun. Anxiety peppered wake-fullness moonlights as a nightmare that I can’t fall asleep to wake up from. I’ve always maintained that display of tears constitutes weakness, but maybe tonight I’ll begin thinking of each unchecked tear as my body expelling my fears. Perhaps tonight, all things previously regarded as weak, which I’ve been diligent to avoid, will turn to strength. Your strength.
“Breath deep, swallow hard, fear gone, carry on.”
