If a poem were a panic attack

It’s not then. It’s now.

Walls closing.
Heart pounding.
Throat dry.

The world feels small.
Me — bigger.

I choke.
Desperate. Scared.
In. Out. In. Out.
I rub my hands together.

Questions.
Confusion.
Am I safe?

My body doesn’t understand.
My brain remembers.

I gasp — desperate for breath.
Old wounds open.
A prisoner in my subconscious.

In. Out. In. Out.
I breathe some more.

What’s happening?

In. Out. In. Out.
I breathe some more.

My heartbeat slows.
My vision clears.
My breaths deepen.

I’m here.
It’s Wednesday.
It’s not then. It’s now.
I’m safe.

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