Grasping for Control (Anxiety)

Twenty-seven delicate bones
wrapped in meat and sinew
bound in calloused flesh like stone,
the infrequent  decoration of scar,
clenched tightly into the fist of God,
full of icy winds, hellfire, and lightning;
vengeance and forgiveness held in balance,
holding chaos and creation in my palms.
 
Ropes pulling through pulleys  
fingers constricting like pythons
choking taut to hold on tighter
gripping, intending to never let go
the firmer I squeeze the stronger I get
to cage all the anxiety inside,
the weight of the world on my mind
until the day I die.