The Waiting Room

THE WAITING ROOM

Breathe.
Keep thoughts clear.
Choose my own loop.
Hand.
Pick.
Each.
Thought.
At.
A.
Time.
Laser point focused,
as the sun
through a magnifying glass.

Abandon any thoughts
outside of my circle.
Fold them up,
and send the away,
as a paper airplane.
Do not let them
penetrate
my Belief Bubble.
If the music
in my head skips,
move the needle.
Harness runaway thoughts.
Tether rumination.

I am safe.
I am clean.
The home I inhabit
has perfect feng shui.

*One tear
was an escapee.*

Breathe.

THE CAR RIDE HOME

Emotions pinging.
Ricocheting like lottery balls.
Each scrimmage depletes
more energy than
the most intense workout.

Struggling to decode
the enemy’s war plans.
My home is the battlefield.
A Purple Heart
slashed across my chest.
Striving to eavesdrop
on the frontline.
No ambushes tolerated.
Targeting for total annihilation.

Tears on the edge.
Contained all day.
Wheels to road.
Alone in my cocoon.
Tears splash.
Spontaneous release.
Fear.
Joy.
Relief.
Liberation.
All is pure again.

Nancy L. Baskin Michlin
February 5-6, 2015
Poem # 392

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