Episode

It begins with a lump,
that I find hard to swallow.
Mimicked by the night sky,
the moon is looking hollow.
In search for a kind hand,
or a star I could follow.
Emerging from the past,
without a need to wallow.

The ground sinks like quick sand,
with each heavy step I take.
Nervous attempt to smile,
but come off awkward and fake.
Outside the ground is frozen,
inside my spirit bakes.
A wish covered in silence,
with no glass wounds to break.

My palms become the ocean,
my mouth dry desert land.
Quickest trembling rhythm,
possessing disarmed hands.
Anxiety soon arises,
choosing a firmer stand.
Confusing every thought,
obstructing any plan.

My eyes soon find a star,
I watch her as she twinkles.
I open my scared heart,
then ask her for a sprinkle.
A tidbit of bright light,
will iron out the wrinkles.
Conquering one more time,
this one was a mere tickle.

– Grace Y. Estevez.