Where Do Worries Go... Poem by Mark Heathcote

Where do worries go...
Sometimes they come like
oppressive dark rain clouds.
Other times are like banks of freezing arctic snow.
Here anxiety pervades into every crevice
and screams out loud, 'Leave me alone,
I want to be a jackarse.' I want to be on my own.

But then this slippery serpentine emptiness,
this numbness subsides, and you decide
I no longer wish to be bound, gadded or paralysed.
Oh, look at the beautiful rosy morning
sunshine it-doesn't-always-hide.
Look at the dandelions on the lawn,
see-how-marvellous they all now shine.

'Isn't this my time? '
Surely I can climb that summit
and make life into something.
Oh worries, where do you go...
I bid you good morrow,
but I know full well; worse than ever
like flees-on-a-stray tabby-cat,
you'll return-again-tomorrow
with equally worsening weather.