Heavens how I hate it.
Becoming incapacitated of breath,
A sort of fear shutting down all my reflexes.
I try like hell to suck in air through lips that wish to
close,
And exhale--but pain, mental becomes physical,
And it pushes my chest.
If I don't turn my hands into fists,
My shaking shows--I feel powerless.
I am a strong woman.
I am a fighter, chin often held high.
I know humility; I am often shocked, surprised--
When people state the force of nature that I am.
When it hits, no matter how I cope,
No matter how hard I hold on--
I don't feel like the phoenix I know myself to be.
I feel weak.
Don't,
don't tell me to calm down.
Don't say I need to get over it.
That this
is a fear that is useless.
I'm being
stupid.
If I could, I would!
Don't you think that I would erase it?
Look at the character at my core--
Do you
really think I enjoy this?
This is not a crutch.
This is a battle I encounter. Often.
A battle I often cannot see coming quickly around life's
bends.
Heavens help me, I want to stop the tears that spill.
And to breathe as if I'm flying--
Instead of a bird's cage doors slamming,
When all she wants is to sing.
When all she wants is to be free.
