A poem about fear

‘Someone called. I have to go.

Just an errand, nothing more.’

Every step feels insecure.

Every look, hard to endure.

They say : ‘ Use imagination!’

They say: ‘ Try it, for probation!’

But you can’t. And who’s to blame?

You or he who has you chained?

Being fearful is no joke.

Breathing hard and maybe stroke,

Hazard thoughts and trembling words,

Stomach pain with pins and swords.

Have you ever asked: ‘But why?’

‘Is it cause someday I’ll die?’

‘What I’m trying to avoid?’

‘Why I’m being paranoid?’

Once you know it, just say this:

I am ready for what is.

I accept and love myself,

I am free to do what’s meant.