Sometimes, It arrives as a polluted smudge On the horizon of my mind. I am able to prepare, Stay home, Make excuses, Maybe eat, Maybe drink, Definitely cocoon.
Sometimes, It hits like a cold wind, Sneaking beneath a fleecy jacket And shivering my bones. I leave the full shopping trolley, Don’t talk Don’t look Don’t stop Find the car White knuckle my way home.
My mind can’t find the reason My body can’t explain the hollow feeling Noises are louder, Light is brighter Conversation is impossible Solitude is peace… sort of. A single point of reference Is sought.
Maybe hours, Maybe days, I hide, I focus, I sometimes weep. Until eventually, Able to appreciate The view beyond the drawn curtain, And the warm touch Of another, The gentle hum of life And the absence of fear, I return to this world.