The air grows tight, a whisper in the chest,
a restless tide that will not let me rest.
Shadows stretch longer than the day,
doubt in my heart tries to lead me astray.
But each small breath becomes a step,
a thread of courage carefully kept.
The storm inside begins to slow,
I plant my feet, and upward I go.
It feels at times a mountain to climb,
stone by stone, moment through time.
Yet higher still, the sky turns clear,
the summit whispers, "Peace is near."
Anxiety softens, it cannot reign—
strength is born from walking through pain.
And when I stand in morning’s glow,
I see how far I dared to go.
Therapy Bits 
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