By Teresa Murguia

I feel it welling up inside me.
Intensity, jittery, darkness.
I know not what to name it.
What it really is.
Is it me, or something else?
What is it flowing in me?
In my veins, in my mind.
Through my flesh, like a great tide.
I feel the scars burn.
But are they from this life,
or another?
I can feel the cold ripping into the warmth.
I remember the cold releasing the warm to flow.
How many times have I done this?
How many lifetimes ended,
perhaps before they were supposed to?
Is this my destiny,
to forever end the life before it has truly begun?
Will I give in again.
Give in to what lurks in me.
Give in. Give in.
I cannot, for there is work to be done.
I must stay until my time,
but it will be painful.
Sometimes, it will feel more than I can bear.
But I must not give in.
There lies the cowards way.
Only the strong stay
until they are called.
I must stay, not for my own sake.
I must stay. I must stay.
I must stay and complete my mission.
I must find my mission.
I must.
I’m scared.