Fight

the walls are closing in,
they’re closing in,
and my elbows are buckling
against their weight,
the balls of my feet are raw
from the force of pushing back
against them,
my head is one thumping pulse
of pain after another,
a constant, unwelcome rhythm,
a reminder that I’m still rigid in the
fight against it

but, I’m tired,
I’m tired of the fighting,
and lately I’ve been catching
glimpses of the truth
in random, slicing throbs
behind my eyes

I see myself,
somehow on both sides
of the walls,
simultaneously helping in the closing in,
and desperately fighting against it

after all this time,
after all this fighting,
the knowing and the unknowing,
the accepting and the cracking open
of my core –
what if I’m still the wall itself?

oh, God – what if I am the fight?

-image via Pixabay