Anxiety has slithered around my ankles
and tethered me to the ground.
Advancing forward can feel like
across dry pavement
an obstacle (or two) in my travels.
As a small child, I tentatively
reached my feet toward the floor
apprehensive of the crevice,
the mere inches
where darkness bleeds until
my monster emerged
and the shackles locked
around each thin, frail, and birdlike
hairless calf then,
accompanied me to school each day
when Mary only had her little lamb.