Anxiety

Anxiety
Anxiety hops like a toad in my guts:
it swims in my stomach and climbs up my throat.
Like seagulls, it splatters my hopes with its buts;
it circles my living like wall or like moat.

But if it’s like toad, should I kiss it and see
if it will turn royal and make me a bride?
Or if it’s a bird, should I watch it fly free,
and let its harsh calling entice me outside?

Or if it’s a moat, make a ditch to the sea
to clean out its waters with tide and with salt,
then lower a drawbridge to where help might be,
or climb up the walls and cry; “Who goes there? Halt!”

I’ll raise the portcullis and parley with flags,
and find there are terms that can set aside fear,
then offer a welcome to strangers with bags,
and find when they stay awhile, all becomes clear.