Heart beats, like a thunderstorm.
I wake with the perspiration
of being alive. Fight or flight;
I freeze, in the flurry of thoughts.
Like a wounded animal, I stare
at raven feathers, circling above me.
Dream catchers.
Mandela.
Breathe.
They're just handwoven memories,
skimming the rims of my fears.
I pull the fabric of my figments
over my chest; cuddle closer
to the woman I want to be.
Heart beats, like a lullaby.
