It’s been thirteen years
since the demon
entered my mind.
The demon,
anxiety.
But I am not my demon.
Yes,
I worry about tomorrow,
even though I’ve been told to
worry about today.
But I now know,
my demons are not as strong
as my resilience.
as my fight.
as my survival.
That bitter, sharp wind
may make wounds on me
with its twisted blade;
still,
it does not
rip me inside.
And the seasons shift,
as the ocean tides
do
when the moon beckons closer;
the light seduces me
into bearing
the winter current
for the reward of a ray of warmth
And for that,
it is worth it.
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