Anxious Poem by Lynn Stillman

Sometimes I look at my life,
and I feel like I am again
the nameless and invisible
kid in school.
The one who purposely sought out
the seat in the very back of the classroom.
Terrified of the morning roll call
because that meant having
to call attention to my presence
Growing up and then dropping out
of Sunday school upon realizing,
that politics and money could smooth over
any rough patch of road in the lives,
of the more fortunate.
Even if that meant going against the grain,
of the wooden crucifix.
Being 'perpetually insecure' means
giving up sucking your thumb
only to pick up the habit of smoking.
The fight for peace of mind begins,
as soon as the sound of the alarm clock
violently shatters a window
of the unconscious mind's
luxurious acommodations.