Rusty breath

         Gotta walk away from this nervous, anxious
moment. Talking to my Father, Jehovah to help me
over this lump in my throat.

         Not my issue to stand. Just let it go. Easier
said than actually done.

                             BREATHE

         Walking back to my room trying to find the
calm in the emptying of tears. La. The tears of
relief that fall. Singled out of all my emotions the
distances I place some.

       Looking at myself in the mirror and laughing
at the unruly mass of waves. Yes breathe. Recall how
easy it is to talk it out verses holding it in.

        One by one the new layers form. Holding
paleness in a red and khaki uniform. A smile must
remain for the tears to stand back.

        Oh how just something so simple as a word can
trigger an old wound. Ah, at last Jehovah sees the
torture forming and helps guide me through.

        Ah dear friend so ironic and comical that one
thing, one word creates havoc inside. Yet here I am
standing pursuing all I can to stay upright.

        Best to walk away right? Finding the peace,
the calm with Jehovah before I speak. Am I correct?

       Still no answer can be placed here. La. I just
am talking to hope. Perhaps that is the best besides
my prayer.

     Still I want to ask for help but I lean upon Jehovah
first. Seeing, hoping by the end of the day things
will have cleared.

     Only hoping. Breathe. Hoping more and loving
the peace Jehovah has just granted me.