I wish I could adopt anxiety,
give it a home.
So that it no longer lingers
in your racing mind.
So that the sweat
on your palms could dry.
So that I can watch it,
worry about where it is.
That way, you can
let that anticipation go,
stop wondering where it hides,
no longer fear rounding corners.
I wish I could show anxiety compassion,
care for it.
So that it would know love.
So that it would know healthy love,
not abusive love.
So that it would stop beating on you.
I would show it love so that maybe
it could, in turn, show love of its own to you.
I wish I could teach anxiety tenderness.
That way, it could touch you with
an occasional gentle nervousness,
rather than grabbing you by the neck
and taking the last square inch of air
out of your lungs.
So that when it crosses your mind, you are finally able
to take deep breaths, to shoo it away with a gentle breeze
rather than starting a tornado of gasps
to try to rid of it.
I would I could tame anxiety.
So that when your mind wanders, you are able
to stop the violent shakes.
So that you could tell it where to "sit" and "stay"
maybe for just one night, a few hours even.
Just so you could leave your room, see faces, have fun.
I wish I could help anxiety communicate.
So that you could get a grasp on what exactly
you're feeling, try to decipher each element
of this violent mental crisis.
That way, when your friends ask why you're so quiet,
you can begin to explain the bottled up emotions,
ready to explode.
Oh, how I wish I could take it all away.
