she creeps

There’s a break in the chain in every once in a while.
A sudden “Oh no!”
I loose the feel of the ground, of my surroundings, that I’m being held.
“Maybe life forgot me,” I say to him, cradled in his arms.
“What are you talking about? Look at your amazing life,” he says.
“You’re right,” I say, my head held with shame. Stupid voices.
“You have so much abundance in your life: you got love, a great home, a great dog; you got health, you got it all.”
I nod to him, he’s so right. “I know. It’s an old voice creeping in.”

I get scared sometimes.
I hold on, I grip, I forget that I’m not in control.
It’s an old habit that creeps in every once in a while.
When does it visit me?
When things are quiet. And still. And steady.
When everything is as it is.
When I’m relaxed, at ease and simply happy, and then suddenly I grip —
“I need more,” says my fear as it creeps in.

Am I doing enough? No.
Can I be doing more? Yes.
Or not.

Liza Fernandez