Unwanted uninvited disruptive demon visitor made of twisted rope.
Knotted tightly. It surrounded you with a sack of amniotic
Dulls the hearing blocks concentration replaces joy with black thunderous
It is heavy to carry feels impossible to put down,
Steals breath from free deep breathing to panicked shallow gasps
It engulfs not some of you all of you.
It wraps you tightly within its self until it is you,
You are it.
It will leave but only when it has completed its mission.
To drain you of strength replacing it with terror.
As it slides away slowly and your breath returns
You are reminded that it has not left completely an
invisible string joins you to it.
It can return at anytime no warning.
It crouches in the dark corners of your mind
Watching waiting until stress fear or uncertainty call it back to
Anxiety is the disruptive demons name.
I lie in my bed.
Right arm arcing around my head.
Like a waxing moon.
It’s almost 3am I don’t need the clock to know.
Silicone ear plugs block external sounds.
Soft orange glow of my salt lamp.
Gentle contented purr of sleeping feline .
Words of yet unbaked poems float across centre stage of my mind.
Pad and pen are just out of reach.
I sigh Pendle witch hangs from my celing sways in the breeze of the window sitting on her broom legs dangling metal rimmed glasses perched on her nose .
She knows my nightly dilema.
The canal bank sleeps.
Ducks and geese huddled together settled
I close my eyes and take a deep breath.
The bardic door in my mind creaks and swings open wide.
Vast library beckons long wooden table and open fire, walls of ceiling high book cases winged back chair and footstool.
Words flow like the raindrops running my window.
I rise from my bed.
Pick up my glasses and my pen.
The Pendle witch smiles as ink pours onto the page the story unfolds and grows.
Time doesn’t exist here.
This is the land of stories, magic
Of tribe anything is possible here.
Words are powerful.
Write it, chant it, sing it, speak it.
Hold out your hands.
For it shall be