hang tight.

money does not grow on trees
and yet it seems it would have branches
long like fingers
clawing at her chest scratching debt
on her chest
her heart
her breath
she loses
each time she hears the word:
overdrawn

how to scrape oneself onto
level ground
it seems like drowning is
one breath away

and yet she must breathe
deep
into the chasm of what is
real
what matters
withdraw from that core
of love and substance

and know that life will
go on
things will be okay

making peace with
roots of despair
until calm spreads
from her toes
to her hair

her inner quiet
is all she has
she must not let
the wind of change
pull it away from her...