interim

a poem

there’s a part of me that’s screaming inside —
words that won’t come out,
legs that won’t move —
paralyzed with uncertainty,
stunned into silence;
my breath catches in my throat,
a billow of fog in front of my face;
i strive to move forward,
uncontrollable stagnancy presides;
i wait,
holding still;

i wait.

beaver mines, photo by author