When I write
My heart beats much more slowly,
The sweat and the panic subside,
My breathing slows down,
I’m less frantic
And feel less like I’m dying inside.
If I carry on writing;
If I stop,
Into panic I’ll fall,
So I’ll sit on this train out of London,
Head down, writing, ignoring it all.
Ignoring the crowds and the shouting,
Ignoring the rough touch of rush,
Ignoring the angry commuters
And their papers, all caught in a crush.
Ignoring the panic that’s rising,
Ignoring my heart in my throat,
I’ll just sit here, keep quietly writing,
Around me my words form a moat.
The commuters can’t get past the water,
My writing protects from attack.
The journey is never that easy,
But I’ll write my way through, make it back.
[this was written as I tried to fend off a panic attack on a busy commuter train. It worked. Sadly, once I stopped writing the panic took hold]