Madame Panic Visits

10294259_871895769490427_8190996095174241621_nby Christine Murray10 Aug 2014

Fear enters my door as a woman,
cajoling, insidious in her approach.
She moves to my right shoulder, she
leans in. Her caressing voice is knowing.

Her voice that contradicts, that states
all is not fine, when I know that it is.
She is an entity, her own whole self.
She wears soft wool, of a lilac tone,

and she speaks to my open right ear.
It is always the same, takes my strength
not to jump, to derange, to leave cold
this body, this hectic wreck that I am.

I will lose my self, my inhabited self,
in the words that I write. I will ignore
her bad dream, her black thought, her
crippled muse, yes that too.

I will turn from her to my left ear, where the music is.
I will turn from her to my left ear, where the music is.