Digging through ghostly shards
pummeling the words that shout from within
understanding too much,
the vice grip of constant anxiety
offers the spoken words access that no one can fully know.
I fight to voice what I mean,
but “Mindy” and “Rebecca” crash through
and grab the microphone from my hand
that finds tenuous comfort in the string
I wrap around and around like a carousel.
August, 2014
Emma's Hope Book 