I Don't Fight

Lyrics

[Intro]

[Verse 1]
At 5:30 AM, in this dimly lit room on Elm Street,
the hardwood floor cool under my bare feet,
I pick up the river stone from the Wabash,
smooth and gray, worn by currents since 1987.
You, little wanderer, vagus nerve,
Stephen Porges called you the peacemaker in 2011,
wandering from brainstem to gut, touching the heart.
I hold you now, this stone, as proxy.

[Chorus]
I don't fight anymore.
The parasympathetic hum takes over,
slowing the train at the rural station in my chest.
65 degrees Fahrenheit, just enough to soften the edges.
Lavender curls from the diffuser, bought last Tuesday,
mixing with chamomile steam from the mug on the coaster.
I surrender, let the biofeedback screen blink green,
heart rate variability steadying like a quiet river.

[Verse 2]
Remember those unnamed faces in Porges' studies,
case number 47 from the 1995 paper,
their breaths slowing in anonymous rooms,
victories buried in data points, no names attached.
But here, with you, river stone,
I feel the weight in my palm, cool and unyielding,
grounding the flight response, the old alarms fading.
No more clenching, just the app's gentle beep,
guiding inhale to four, hold, exhale to six.

[Bridge]
Oh, vagus, you meander through me,
from the medulla oblongata down to the colon,
creating safety in this worn cushion,
pale dawn light through the window pane installed in 2005.
The missing stories, those quiet surrenders,
echo in the earth's own pulse, held in this stone.

[Chorus]
I don't fight anymore.
The parasympathetic hum takes over,
slowing the train at the rural station in my chest.
65 degrees Fahrenheit, just enough to soften the edges.
Lavender curls from the diffuser, bought last Tuesday,
mixing with chamomile steam from the mug on the coaster.
I surrender, let the biofeedback screen blink green,
heart rate variability steadying like a quiet river.

[Outro]
And in this moment, with you, I rest.