Does fear and panic? That in the throat kind of hysteria that sees boxers pounded down to the ground, only to shake it off and dance across the canvas in a flurry of inwardly rhythmic feints and jabs to get through the round?
I’m not so sure.
And yet I feel awakened.
For two days now as I’ve squelched down panic I’ve felt a sense of joy.
I read it in the faces of people I’ve passed in the streets.
In the way the servers hand over packages at the market.
A determination. A grit. An adaptation in the now that creates something.
That claims the present as a prospector would a piece of a stream.
Here is where I stand those faces say. My domain. My six foot circle that enshrines me in hope and destiny.