The Anxious Escape

This is my first piece of writing since going through depression and now coping with anxiety. I've never written poetry before, and may never write again... these thoughts just come into my head.

I’m sitting on the riverbank,

The grass between my toes,

This is my secret sanctuary,

Not even God would know.

On that subject, I do consider

How this Earth was born -

By evolution or miracle?

Much like the grass… I’m torn.

 

People-watching serves me well.

The children play with stones,

The dogs attack the water

While the weary parent moans,

Teenagers enthralled by the sight

Keep it in their phones,

While I sit on the riverbank,

The grass between my toes.

 

The air is thick, the breeze is cool,

I smell the blazing heat,

I taste the ice-cold spring water,

A bliss quite hard to beat.

I practice acts of mindfulness,

I listen to the birds,

Their tune, it utters: Girl, you’re free,

I chant these precious words.

 

Then, I shuffle on my buttocks

The lumpy ground protrudes,

A fleeting thought of heading home

Is set to change my mood.

I cling with fury to the calm,

But the noise is in my head,

Soon enough the Life Alarm

Has ripped me from my bed.

 

The birdsong turns to ringtones,

The river, just a screen,

The people are like emails

As they interrupt the scene.

I may be present bodily,

But my mind is now possessed,

I’m sitting on the riverbank,

But staring at my desk.

 

I realise, now, the moment’s gone

As I wriggle in my seat,

Defeated by anxiety,

I rise onto my feet,

“All good things must come to an end”

I say as I reverse,

I wonder if this brief escape

Has made my longing worse.

 

I climb the steps between the houses,

Back against the sun,

“Goodbye,” I say to my retreat.

I hear the motors hum.

And just like that, I’m on a street,

So grey and void of breath,

My heart is heavy, once again,

The peace is choked to death.

 

I daydream of the riverbank,

The grass between my toes,

The sight and sound unaltered,

While my understanding grows:

We yearn for stillness, always

Yet we force ourselves to change

As humans, we are nature,

But by nature, aren’t we strange?

Author's Note

This is just for fun but I'm happy to receive feedback. I didn't do much editing when it came into my mind, so may not be the most beautiful piece of work!!