A poem…of hope

The drive down by the river
Echoed in the burned out trees
Sage brush nearly absent
Seems also are the honey bees
Blackened and hollowed out
Tall sprawling oak
Now in fevered disarray
Scorching heat of fire
Tearing at their fine souls
Threatening their ability to stay
In mother nature’s favor
Walking this fine line of
Pomp and circumstance
Fire black leaves blow in the wind
Crippled and broken
No more growth around the bend
Dire days for the manzanita
Beautiful red blazing skin
Now thick with smoke
Yet on the horizon and
Deep into the valley floor
Mustard spreads its wings
Billows of yellow sprouting
In its finest glory
The brightest smile of life
You’ve ever seen
Nature is fighting
Plotting its course
Bringing us small gifts
Within the raindrops
Within the wind gusts
Within the anxiety that startles
Our breath

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Running into open air

Sometimes I lean on dirt roads to carry me through the anxiety. Pounding of the hiking path grounding me turn for turn. Easing my agitation. Some people do yoga. Maybe I should try it. I tend to want to run. Maybe try and outrun the demon, at least for an hour or two. Huffing and puffing through the trees. Racing through brush. Just not stopping. Heart racing for all the right reasons.
The walls were closing in this morning. Same damn job search routine. Alarm rings. Rip myself from the bedsheets. Grab some coffee and settle in. Today the self doubt ran rampant. I applied for 3 jobs in the last 2 weeks. Not a peep from any potential employers. My resume sucks! I don’t have any marketable skills! I should have never left my job of over 17 years despite every ounce of me needing to get out. All the signs. Red flags waving. I should have stuck it out. I should have changed. Surely it was all my doing. Me! Me! me. Big fat failure screaming back with each scroll through the job boards.
Financial insecurity-check.
Fear-check
Isolation-check
Desire to not feel these things-CHECK CHECK
In a matter of moments I flew around my house. I need a water bottle. I need my headphones. Where’s my hiking backpack. Who am I talking to? Doesn’t matter. I knew I needed to get out of the house and out of my mind. I needed to breathe. Not filtered gym air, but mother nature’s healing powers. Escape in its purest, healthiest form. At least for me. For this alcoholic.
Music overshadowing “the neighborhood” I charged up the hill. I didn’t look back. Only forward. Step after step marveling in the fact I can do that next right thing, if I choose to. It was more than a choice. It was a want. I wanted to feel the grace that lies outside my front door. So many days I shut in. Cower in fear alone. Not noticing a thing but the heart palpitations that bring me to my knees.
Today I ran in the wind. Through yellow mustard. Stomped in mud. Heard the lyrics of songs that sometimes just pass me by. Most importantly I was in charge of my breath. Fast or slow. It was my doing. I chose to make the sprint to the next bench. I chose to meander near that bee hive…just to watch a community at large be in harmony.
Walking back to the car I felt the sweat down my back. What I didn’t feel was anxiety. Or agitation. I went to check my watch. My barometer of success at times. Did I run long enough or fast enough? I refrained. In that moment my self worth wasn’t to be defined by minutes or miles. It also wasn’t going to be defined by buzz words on resumes. I rested in the peace of mind I rescued myself in a precarious moment. A personal success if I say so myself.

 

Anxiety sucks

The room has become too big
My anxiety crawling along the walls
calling my fear front and center
Shaking hands
Short of breath.
Sweat down my back
Trying to stand tall when
the weight of the world is pressing
Dishes piled high
Laundry piled high
My bed sheets now hold my tired stains
I can’t get out of this bed
I can’t open that window
My poor kitty beckons in the Hall
No food in his bowl
Curtains curtail the sun and
Usher in the darkness
Weeds grow all around
Outside and
Inside this broken mind

Dreams die in the Fog

The lies
They take hold
Implant in my mind
No persuasion otherwise
This just is
Fantasy of life
On the wings of delusion
What could be
Buried deep in illusion
Who are you
To believe
To pursue
Don’t forget
It is you
That rides the wave of confusion
Your mind overrides
Any sense
Any infusion
Of possibility
Your Dreams die in the fog
Of unrequited absolution
For you dear one
Rest in between the realm of
reality
Duality and
Persecution
The long road is ahead
Forever waiting