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PUBLIC NOTICE:ALL CLEAR

By Hannah LambertPublished about 6 hours ago 1 min read

PUBLIC NOTICE: ALL-CLEAR

Attention please.

This is a public announcement

addressed to the nervous system,

the muscles braced for impact,

the heart rehearsing disasters

that have not arrived.

Stand down.

Lower the sirens.

Release the grip on the doorframe of the future.

No immediate danger has been detected

in this moment,

or this room,

or this breath.

Yes, symptoms may still be present:

— a pulse that sprints ahead of reason

— eyes scanning faces for hidden weather

— thoughts predicting endings before beginnings

— shoulders holding yesterday like a threat

— a mind trained to survive by assuming the worst

These are acknowledged.

They are not orders.

This is not an emergency.

This is memory echoing through the halls

long after the building stopped burning.

You may unclench your jaw.

You may drop your shoulders from your ears.

You may inhale without counting exits.

You may exhale without apology.

The danger you were built to outrun

is not here.

It is not now.

It does not get to decide the tone of this day.

This notice serves as permission

to choose calm without justification,

to choose softness without consequence,

to choose joy even if it feels unfamiliar.

Let it be known:

You are allowed to rest

without earning it through fear.

You are allowed to trust

without proof of safety stamped and signed.

Effective immediately,

control of this life

returns to the present moment.

Remain where you are.

Breathe as needed.

Resume living.

This system has spent enough years

mistaking anticipation for protection,

confusing exhaustion with vigilance,

calling fear a form of foresight.

That protocol is outdated.

It no longer serves the body it governs.

There will be no further rehearsals

for catastrophes without invitations.

No more background checks on kindness.

No more interrogations of quiet.

Any future alarms must present

verifiable, present-moment evidence

or they will be dismissed on arrival.

This is not a suggestion.

This is a directive.

Stand down.

Stand here.

Stand now.

The past has been acknowledged.

It does not hold authority.

This announcement concludes the emergency.

Failure to comply will result

in continued living anyway.

Final notice: All Clear.

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About the Creator

Hannah Lambert

Hannah Lambert writes from the crossroads of faith, resilience, and lived experience. Her poems offer a soft place for hard truths and a lantern for anyone finding their way home.

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  • Amashiraabout 5 hours ago

    Oh I loved that so much.

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