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I watch anxiety play across her face
my heart lurching
my insides upheaval laden
somewhere in the misty consciousness
it dawns
she carries my heart
and I weep
for there's no room to keep
the worry at bay

"I just think...this world is too hard a place for me."
I hear my own words reechoed
from a younger voice
a younger version of me
how can it be?
how can it be?
I thought she had more of him than of me
his calmness
his laissez faire fanfare of confidence
"let things happen as they will" exuberance
The..."don't obsess
no internal mess" productivity

It's not to be....
she carries my heart, I see
her voluptuous figure eaten away
to a size she's always wanted
but not from diet discipline
or extremes of exercise
not this time...
"I'm anxious, Mama."

What can I say?
My carefully crafted confidence in her 
for being a stronger woman
than I've ever been or could ever be
is hit at the core...foundations shaken
Oh...why must she be
so much like me
and in secret, I weep
for the daughter who must keep
a heart
too sensitive, too weak
for a world
belligerent....bleak

"I'm anxious....
I'm anxious, Mama"

And I'm left with a week
before she goes away
to pull my wits about me
to know what to say
to fill her with strength
pulling on the reserves of sanity
still left to me
to set her free
Oh...to set her FREE
and let that anxiety

settle....settle...settle
enshrouding not her
but only...
......me

Eileen Manassian

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