Slow Panic

By Amy Elizabeth Doherty

I am afraid, again
Of things my body might do
With twisted, poison breath
it’s branches reaching deep

I’m practicing, again
Sat in my lonely bathroom
My eulogy, new draft
The cold makes my hands shake

I bury days, again
See time slink by me, unspent
I cough, into my sleeve
Ward off the urge to count

A current BA student of English Literature and Creative Writing, Amy lives in Buckinghamshire with her husband and their three children. 

Living through a pandemic with anxiety can be a strange and lonely place. Even when you’re following all the guidelines, staying safe and sensible, it’s hard to quiet that irrational part of your brain. Mental Health issues due to (or exacerbated by) COVID-19 are not always the first thing people think of, but it’s really damaging when people don’t have support.

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Cathleen Cohen
1 year ago

Twisted, poison breath and branches reaching deep… So perfectly captures the feeling of panic and distrust of even the simplest things. Poignant work!

Peter Long
Peter Long
1 year ago

Love the poem, it is the feel of slow panic that this lockdown has wrought on us. It’s not like I imagine being in the blitz, it definitely how you have captured the feeing.

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