When fear is behind me, and in front of me, how am I suppose to overcome it?
Coming at me from all sides, from a bloodline steeped in it and nurtured by its darkness, how can I begin to have enough courage to deny it?
I see it.
How it has – over time – shackled those I love.
How it tries to keep my child disconnected, in the darkness.
How it feeds me doubt –
An endless feast of doubts in my ability to love, to speak truth, to shine light…
I feel it.
There’s safety in silence.
There’s comfort in the familiar.
There’s entitlement to my role.
I can laze in the apathy of arrival, of the plateau.
I hear it.
Sometimes as whispers; sometimes shouting.
Always offering an excuse, a targeted excuse, a perfect card to win the hand.
Justification in the act of giving in, of turning away, of trying to live free from pain.
I see. I hear. I feel.
And I am in acknowledgment.
I am trying…trying…to overcome.
But the battle is so BIG, the roots run so deep.
I need courage that’s bigger and deeper…that offers its own endless feast.
I need courage to trust that the fight is worth it, that it matters.
I need courage, wisdom, discernment to take the next step and the step after that…and the step after that – because, every step is hard, and I don’t think I can do it alone.
I don’t want to do it alone.