my anxieties wrap around me like a too-warm blanket.
my eyes closed too-tight with the windows too-shut.
everyone was there:
the thief
scorpion
darkness
everyone.
when i was young, the antidote was a glass of water and waving goodbye.
i open my eyes
open the window
and say - goodbye.
at sunrise,
my demons melt away
or maybe freeze
the crows yell and i wonder if they can see it all-
me, my darkness, and every way i’ve ever hurt myself
but i laugh at myself because i know that’s just another thing a demon would say.
i take a drink and wave,
and pray for the sacred light, the sweet mountains, holding me up on either side, and the birds to help me now
that the calm of the desert at sunrise can sink into my skin somehow,
that I can hold myself like my mom used to now.
hold me now.