Fear

I believe that there is no worse death than fear, because fear buries you alive; but what is fear but a myth?

There has always been something behind those eyes.

The eyes of a child leaving the arms of their mother.

In the smile of a stranger.

Fear. Fear that hides in the corners of your mind

Screaming at you to run.

Run away from it all, because it can only bring pain

Someone once told me that fear is the worst kind of death

Because it buries you,

Alive.

I remember the day that the very same person who told me that

Held my hand and said goodbye.

Hiding the fear in his eyes as he left my side

Walking blindly into his future.

Fear.

I was afraid to run after him

And now, I see fear everywhere.

Fear in that glance you toss over your shoulder.

Fear in the pause when there is a noise coming from the leaves behind you when

You, you walked alone.

Fear, in that sharp intake of breathe when you hear that gun.

That gun being loaded and pointed at your back.

Let go of the fear. Do not run away

You cannot run away, because this,

This is Life.

But fear is a mystery.

That mystery is resolved when the child makes a friend

When that stranger becomes your sister, your brother.

When that boy who left takes my hand once more telling me

That I was right.

That fear was a myth if you shine your light.

The glance over your shoulder revealed no hint of danger.

When that crackle of leaves as you walked alone was just a rabbit.

When the war Vets ears deceived him into thinking he was about to die.

Back in the same war fields that he stood in years before.

Now I believe that fear,

Fear is a lie.

 

Author's Note

tell me how you feal about this, any ideas on how it should be fixed up? Advice? I was thinking about reading this at a poetry slam! :)