Travel Bag

A journey through health anxiety

Photo by Tim Woolliscroft on Unsplash

My mind a layered labyrinth

and I, a daft discoverer-

certainly not brave in

the way of trailblazer’s past-

no Lewis,

nor Clark. Crawling,

I make my way,

inching along,

pebbled knees, dull

headlamp to light the dark.

Often passing the same bends

on the same well-worn paths,

again, and

again.

Through narrow

chasms I fumble forward,

ruinous fears peak out

from behind jagged

rocks. I call them out

loudly, so as to hear back the

absurdity, the echoes

of my own delusions.

“Death by canker sore” I

yell, and find a funny

sort of ring to it, while

“Bad news bloodwork

bonanza” dulls the razor’s

edge, just enough. Sometimes,

I sing my obsessions, a malarkey

of melody to keep me company,

to keep my spirits

up. Though, I’m uncertain if,

'“could it be back pain, could it be

stage 4 pancreatic cancer”

hits hard enough to be

a # 1.

Nevertheless, I plug along,

in semi-darkness, humming

throughout my mind maze.

With me, I carry

my travel bag,

filled to the brim with

my necessities. In it, you’ll find

the absolute essentials

for this journey that I hold-

my shampoo and toothpaste,

my journal,

my acceptance,

my silly-

my hope.