There is a near panic running through my veins tonight, a panic without a cause. It started last night as a vague, ill-defined fear that I tried to push aside. But it’s come back now, with a vengeance, and not knowing why is only making it worse…
“Let’s face it, Lisa dearest. You may have many faults, and quirks that make you weird. You may have real mental illness issues, even if you manage to blend in. But random anxiety attacks are not your thing, and panic is not your style!”
“Don’t you think I know that?!,” I respond too sharply. “Don’t you think I get that?!” I cannot seem to keep the panic out of my own voice tonight; I cannot even fool myself!
But the truth is I do my best work in crisis, staying calm, focused and on task. I may not be a physical asset when sh*t breaks loose, but my thinking becomes crystal clear. I am definitely someone you want in your bunker when all options are on the table, for I will see the “best” course of action, almost intuitively.
Tonight, though, I cannot find my way through tangled threads of time and truth, nor can I make sense of muddied waters all around me. There is nothing here! Nothing to do! There is only the panic, the shallow breathing, the racing beat of my own heart, and nothing (absolutely nothing!) to blame it on!
“Ok, child, breathe… Just breathe… Seek not, for those answers may not yet exist. Wait… And let the truth come here to you.”
*** *** ***
Sitting in the darkness now
hidden safely in the shadows.
Breathing strangled, but steadier,
heart rate coming down…
WIth my heart and mind,
expanding on all sides,
exploring every timeline,
claiming what is mine.
But the source of this eludes me still,
defying every effort,
every tool I’ve ever used,
leaving me lost at sea, baffled and confused.
“Wait! What is that?!,” as blood pressure begins to rise.
“Swooping shadows overhead,
then flying high to deeply dive.”
I’ve seen this pattern, recently,
There was a single seagull flying
over me, as I waited at that light.
Exactly this same flight path;
I remember thinking it was odd.
And last night, on the porch,
the same pattern mapped by moths!
Calm begins to settle over me,
as my thinking ratchets up.
“Yes! There is something significant in this…
Of that much I am certain!”
But what does this dance represent?
And who is doing it?
What spirit or form of self
is dancing this pattern tonight?
For it isn’t “me” or one of mine
enacting this persistent ritual.
But someone else entirely…
Or should that pronoun now be plural?
Yes… yes… I’m on to something now.
I see a circle, and a fire, with dancers all around.
I cannot hear the music that they dance to,
though I can see it in the way they move and sway.
They dance for peace and healing,
but they draw danger in with every swoop and swirling turn.
It circles in, drawing closer every round…
I’m not sure they even sense its presence as their feet beat an incessant rhythm on the ground.
Euphoria cut short…
Battle lost before weapons are even drawn…
My heart weeps for those who will be lost,
with the rising of the Sun…