Pulse
The pulse of the house beats
to an anxious rhythm,
nothing like the peaceful reprieve we’ve known,
but we’re deep in the unknown now
I breathe it in deep, hear my own anxieties
on the exhale
Feeling the weight of a thousand stories,
who can hold both gloom and glory?
Who can thrive here?
When too many people aren’t surviving
We have what we physically need,
just no sanity
Although I don’t address it,
some are giving up more in this mess,
so much inequity
We might just fall apart together,
on the couch watching light fade,
sinking deep
At least our lungs fill with air
Slopes are unbearably steep here
and we’re still climbing