"Panic-Stricken"
By Scott McKenzie
Heart skips a beat;
Inhale, exhale . . .
Inhale, exhale . . .
Stop!
Breathe -- quicker now, shallow still.
Chest constricts, hands clench.
Right lip tilts up, teeth attack.
Eyelids shut, darkness engulfs;
Deep breath . . .
Deep breath again, count to ten . . .
No good.
Gnaw on lip, stop before bleeding.
Switch sides, resume gnawing.
Sweat bead trickles down face.
Clock ticks, then it tocks;
Wish to be somewhere else . . .
Wish for it to end . . .
Almost there.
Open eyes,
darkness vanishes.
Breath steadies, hands relax.
Long sigh, lips turn up.
All over . . .
This is for all of you people who have certain things that nearly make you go into a panic attack . . . say public speaking, for example. Deep breaths don't work for these situations; whoevever told me that was silly (I love you anyway). At least for me, true calm comes after whatever is making me anxious ends. And say it is public speaking. When it is over, I can smile and say "I made it" while praying that I won't have to go through that again anytime soon. Then I'll have my hopes dashed, of course.
* * * * * * * * * *
"Fortunate Feet"
By Christian Meier
Scent of wood smoke
from
back-yard camp-fire
beneath full-moon's amused gaze
is good.
Now accompanied
by
distant loon cry
across clear water lake
all shifts: suddenly sublime.
Tonight dancing there will be
with starlight and cricket song.
What a treat
for
my fortunate feet!
This poem travelled down my arm one night while I sat next to a campfire under the stars in my backyard next to a lake in the north woods.
