As we get back; to school, to work, and to a more regular day-to-day life, I would like to discuss something else that may be ‘back’ for some of us. And that’s stress. I will share a poem about how I envision and deal with it, and hopefully this will be helpful to whoever reads this.
A ball of fire sits in the centre of my chest,
bright and blistering,
and feeling as if its blaze might engulf me whole.
Along with its scorching presence, is its tremendous weight,
and my unfounded certainty that,
an elephant sitting on my diaphragm would feel no lighter.
Behind my eyes are a flickering of colours,
red, yellow, and orange tones,
pulsing to the sound of my heartbeat.
My heart, flutters against my breast,
like a wild bird in a cage,
seemingly sure that if it throbs just a little harder,
In my head my confidence battles my fear,
like two gladiators engaged in a deadly duel,
from which only one can be victorious.
The weapons used are words and memories,
each, is as sharp and unyielding as the strongest steel.
Past failures are brought to the surface,
like ghostly apparitions haunting the depths of my consciousness.
While ensuing accomplishments,
and remembered acceptance of my imperfections,
do their best to drive these phantoms off.
I am consumed by irrational fear;
fear that I will never find my path;
fear that I will never discover my life’s purpose;
fear that my full potential will never be reached;
fear that I am incapable of measuring up to my own expectations;
fear that my imagination will forever exceed my abilities;
fear that in this continual striving lay the seeds of a halted existence;
In the presence of this cacophony of sounds and emotions,
of triumphs and anguish,
of yearning and anxiety,
I push forward blindly.
Not knowing if,
this latest endeavour will yield positive or negative ammunition,
for future internal struggles.
Nonetheless, I strive again, and again,
sure only ‑ that I will regret any opportunities I avoided,
simply because success was not assured.
I face my fear of failure,
and visualize myself running full out,
towards that metaphorical wall.
I contemplate that I might slam into this barrier,
or crash right through.
I grasp that how long either action impacts me,
is mainly up to me.
Assuredly; I realize that,
despite my throbbing heart, blazing chest, and internal warring,
I will eventually find a way through.
the only common ammunition that my battling selves shared was,
that the times I truly failed were when I stopped trying.
An original poem by: