Moving through the heavy fog of fear,
I am encumbered by
“What-if?”
“What now?”
“What next?”
Eyes darting, arms outstretched,
I search for safety,
Grasp for what I know.
Keenly, I listen.
And hear each sound that ere was mere white noise.
Panic sets down roots and grows.
The fog of fear moves in,
Compressing my space,
My place,
In My world.
Denser. Thicker. Fed by confusion and alarm.
Until I realize
This fog is of my own creation.
I, unprotected, unaware, let it in.
I let it thrive,
Feeding it the dung another spewed and I empowered.
But no more.
Take back your shit.
Or let it rot and spoil the world in which you live.
I, from here forward, refuse
To let
You
In.
Or let you win.
Touché.
My husband is extremely safety conscious and sometimes I think his concerns cross the line to paranoid.
I’ve often told him that while I know there are risks in every endeavor, I cannot live my life in their shadow.
Which isn’t to say I don’t acknowledge real dangers and the possibility for harm, but that I refuse to let that motivate my every action, every day, in every circumstance.
There are times to be afraid, but more often we are called to be brave and to shine our light against the darkness.