Fawn Spots

Like how a buck wears its antlers from spring to fall,

I wear my headphones for protection, to drown out the voices as they get louder.

They come on days when the temperature is too nice or the birds sing too sweet,

or when existence feels good.

The voices that trample trough the ivy, breaking down the briars of incantations my therapy trained me to recite.

I can’t hear the birds.

How long has it been since

they sang?

It licks their lips as it swallows the meadow with its mouth

I can feel the teeth pass my head,

its breath sinking into my cells,

my body tenses, waiting to fly,

praying to survive this.

Man is in the woods.

And I smear the grass, the stream, the flowers with my fawn spots,

tearing up the earth unapologetically as I run

with the words:

Man is in the woods

Man is in the woods

Man is in the woods

snapping at my senses,

numbing me to the churn of muscle

until I am out from under its shadow

and see me in the mirror,

without my antlers on.

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A moment of reflection of a habit I have formed. I have noticed lately that I am always wearing my headphones to drown a majority of the active hours of the day, even though I don’t have any anxious thoughts or doubt, and thankfully, have not had episodes of these feelings for a few years now. It is just funny what the body keeps record of, and how it shelters the psyche from any sign of the past returning.

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Thank you so much for reading, and giving me a reason to keep the headphones off! Sorry for being away for so long as well.