This is splendid, A. You look at your fear straight on, the answers to the questions you pose at the end inherent in the depth and strength of your poem. What a poem of truth and clarity. Thank you!
Yes! Fear wants to convince us that it knows something we don’t, and that what it knows is scary. Fear will do anything and everything to make us forget that we are both fully known and wholly loved, because fear can’t hold a candle to love; neither can it extinguish love’s flame.
This is splendid, Lisa, and resonates so much with me. You capture so well the simple irrationaility that can sometimes be anxiety, its organic nature with no origens. Thank you for sharing.
Love this. Yes we only need a small voice, the dandelion that pushes through the crack, reminding us of the life that is right here beneath the fear. .
This is very nice, Todd. I love the opening "Fear blasts its message of doom across the room, in surround sound." Oh yes! And I love the end "If we leave the door cracked, even just a skosh, and tilt our ears, we might be able to hear." And that sentence that connects the two "Promisr whispers hope int he hallway." I realize I just commented on every line in your poem, but it came to me in these distinct pieces. And I appreciate the word "skosh," which I looked up and see that it is a cousin of "smidgen." Great work, Todd!
Congatulations to your daughter and you all! and your comment, Chuck, reminded me of all those moments watching oiur kids at sports, music, drama or presentation time. Quite often, we were more nervous than they were!
I love this Rachel. You capture the moments right before the performance so well and vividly. I just went to a magnificient chorale and symphonic concert on Sunday, and I can imagine every one of those amazingly talented folks had a bit of this in those moments before the condutor raised her hands.
I recognize this needing to be a good girl. Fear used as a means to keep women docile, timid and submissive. I recognize this pleasing others as well. For me the nurturer as part of the good girl. Not that there is anything wrong with nurturing, but when it comes as an expectation to give way more than to receive, than there is an issue. I relate to wanting this little girl to spread her wings, and it is not selfish at all. See you flying in the skies!
Yes! all of those things - especially the expectation to give away more than to receive......It teaches us that receiving is selfish. Thank you for your thoughtful words!
Yes! I have no idea who I am either. The expectations put on me were in no way malicious but they were expectations nonetheless. Now I’m 50 and I don’t know who I want to be when I grow up.
I love this A.M., and really appreciate your "befriending" of fear. "Know its phone number by heart and text it"...brilliant! I really love your poetry!
This exceptional, Alexandra. I love the courage and wisdom, the compassion and empathy you shine into fear, a reminder to shine it not only into our own fear, but the fear we find in others that may cause difficult behaviors and challenges in our own lives..
Thank you, Larry! And yes, I love what you've brought out about the fear we find in others. A reframe can help us offer compassion to the people who frustrate us most. We are all just scared children in need of care and guidance, at heart.
This is powerful and so brilliantly written, Sarah. And so true. You have put fear in such an honest and real context, in the process diminishing its power and strength. "Fear is a friend." a small line with big meaning. And your reminder that ferar is an instinct that can protect and keep us safe. This is true wisdom poetry. Thank you.
Thanks Kaitlin, I loved your poem today, touching me deeply. My poem today goes to the feeling in my body when I am stuck in fear, which by the way I have been in the past couple of days.
I love this Julie! You have given words to how I feel from time to time! Fear often strangles our words and creative impulses, and your words help release my own.
Panic attack is somehow both an apt descriptor of what one feels like and not even close, isn't it? I love how you finish your poem with a reminder that fear isn't the enemy.
And the excavation is ongoing! I love this, Grace. It is so hones,t so perceotive and insightful. Your depiction of the Big "F" ears and the more mundane ones, that grip us every day, is brilliant. you expose the banality of fear so wonderfully well. Thank you for your remarkable poem.
Your poem was about letting go of fear, and I wrote about how I can't😅
Someday,
I will die.
Someday,
every one
I have ever known
will die, and
I can't know
how it will happen, and
I can't prepare
for every scenario.
I will leave things
unfinished, and
I will leave behind
people who may
still need me.
We are only guaranteed
this one life.
We are only guaranteed
the end of it.
What am I to do, then,
but breathe
until I can't?
What am I to do
but beg
these atoms of mine
to hold tight,
just for a while?
Found this a few weeks ago. Your poem reminded me of its message:
The Latin "Dum spiro, spero" means "While I breathe, I hope."
The second half of this faith statement is, “Spero autem amo.” which means “While I hope, I love.”
Beautiful. My sentiments exactly.
I relate to these concerns and questions, and I have found too, all I can do is breathe, hope and pray.
This is splendid, A. You look at your fear straight on, the answers to the questions you pose at the end inherent in the depth and strength of your poem. What a poem of truth and clarity. Thank you!
Very poignant words and thoughts. “What am I to do but breathe until I can’t?” ❤️
....Atoms, hold tight.....🙂
I really needed to read this today! I feel like I'm breathing more easily. Here's mine:
.
FEAR
.
A thrum in my chest
Like the background music in a movie when the scene is tense
And you know that any moment
A monster is going to jump out:
But I'm just on my computer,
Or washing the dishes,
Or taking a walk.
"What do you want me from me?!"
I ask my anxiety.
"What are you trying to warn me of?!"
And the small inner voice replies:
"Oh, that part is a secret. :)"
The smiley face at the end is everything.
Lol, it's a reference to a meme and I couldn't resist using it. I imagine my brain making this face at me all the time. X)
Yes! Fear wants to convince us that it knows something we don’t, and that what it knows is scary. Fear will do anything and everything to make us forget that we are both fully known and wholly loved, because fear can’t hold a candle to love; neither can it extinguish love’s flame.
Exactly! Anxiety thrives on being nameless.
Ah that last line!!! So true. Why would we possibly need to know why we are in such a frenzy?!
I just wish my brain would give me a hint, though. Lol x)
This is splendid, Lisa, and resonates so much with me. You capture so well the simple irrationaility that can sometimes be anxiety, its organic nature with no origens. Thank you for sharing.
Thanks for reading! It's good to not be alone with this experience.
A thrum.......nice.
(I like words I have to look up)
It's one of my favorite words! :D
Fear
Fear blasts its message
of doom across the room
in surround sound.
Promise whispers hope
in the hallway.
If we leave the door cracked,
even just a skosh,
and tilt our ears,
we might be able to hear.
Oh thank you for this. I sometimes forget to listen for that whisper.
Love this. Yes we only need a small voice, the dandelion that pushes through the crack, reminding us of the life that is right here beneath the fear. .
This is very nice, Todd. I love the opening "Fear blasts its message of doom across the room, in surround sound." Oh yes! And I love the end "If we leave the door cracked, even just a skosh, and tilt our ears, we might be able to hear." And that sentence that connects the two "Promisr whispers hope int he hallway." I realize I just commented on every line in your poem, but it came to me in these distinct pieces. And I appreciate the word "skosh," which I looked up and see that it is a cousin of "smidgen." Great work, Todd!
Thank you, Larry. I believe my high school English teacher would take your comments as a compliment. 🤭
“Even just a skosh...”
And they would be right on!
Fear
Backstage the lights are dim
The hall is quiet
For a moment
There is only me, my clarinet, my hands
Cool, damp, not yet trembling
So far, so good, I think
My instrument, my hands
My strong beating heart
Slow down, I tell it, no need to hurry
There is time
Always time, but then
I lift my eyes
Meet the conductor’s nod
Hear my name announced
The swift rise of applause
Is the only thing my heart hears
Beating faster, ignoring my earlier admonition
I close my eyes
Take one more deep breath
There is time, always time
I walk out onto the stage, smiling
Never let’em see you sweat, I think
This is the most fear I will ever know, I think Knowing that it’s not
A quick peek at the crowd, another breath
I look up
The conductor meets my nod
My hands know what to do
So do my instrument, my heart, my lungs
I let go
And let them guide me
I remember feeling some of/most of/all of those heartbeats from my seat at my daughter's clarinet senior recital at JMU.
Excellent flashbacks.
She graduates from George Mason with a Masters in Arts Management TODAY!!!!!!!
(had to get that plug in, sorry)
Congrats!!!
Congratulations 🎉
Congatulations to your daughter and you all! and your comment, Chuck, reminded me of all those moments watching oiur kids at sports, music, drama or presentation time. Quite often, we were more nervous than they were!
I can feel the fear building and then releasing in your words. Thank you for sharing
As a fellow clarinetist, this brings up memories!
I love this Rachel. You capture the moments right before the performance so well and vividly. I just went to a magnificient chorale and symphonic concert on Sunday, and I can imagine every one of those amazingly talented folks had a bit of this in those moments before the condutor raised her hands.
Thank you for your poem today, Kaitlin. It speaks deeply to my soul. Here is my poem:
FEAR
I thought that I wasn’t afraid
But then I recognized
FEAR
is the thing tethering me
to anger, frustration, despair, and grief
Fear of making waves
Fear of coloring outside the lines
created by society, religion, marriage, family, friends
I’ve worked so hard
To be a good girl
Just like my parents taught me
Unattainable, unreasonable, and impossible expectations
Of course I failed
Now I’m holding the pieces
Of a life lived trying to please others
Pieces I don’t know how to put back together
Because I don’t know who I am
or even who I want to be
and FEAR tells me
it is too late, I am too old,
there is too much to lose
and it is too selfish
to let the little girl inside
speak her truth, spread her wings, and fly away
I recognize this needing to be a good girl. Fear used as a means to keep women docile, timid and submissive. I recognize this pleasing others as well. For me the nurturer as part of the good girl. Not that there is anything wrong with nurturing, but when it comes as an expectation to give way more than to receive, than there is an issue. I relate to wanting this little girl to spread her wings, and it is not selfish at all. See you flying in the skies!
Yes! all of those things - especially the expectation to give away more than to receive......It teaches us that receiving is selfish. Thank you for your thoughtful words!
Yes! I have no idea who I am either. The expectations put on me were in no way malicious but they were expectations nonetheless. Now I’m 50 and I don’t know who I want to be when I grow up.
"Just like my parents taught me........impossible expectations"
Yup.
Yes! love this
This is beauitful, Anne. I know this poem is one of the healing ways you are releasing that little girl. Thank you for sharing this lovely poem.
Make fear your friend-
Have afternoon coffee
And inside jokes,
Know it’s phone number
By heart and text it
When something big
Feels like it’s building
On the horizon,
Asking fear for advice
Like the besties you are,
Labeled in each others
Contacts by your pet names,
Daily conversation
Between “Life’s Delights”
And “The Unknown”.
I love this. This feels like a reminder of a life-long work
I think that is the crux of it all. We have to make space for everything, even the scary things. Otherwise we'll miss the good stuff.
I love this A.M., and really appreciate your "befriending" of fear. "Know its phone number by heart and text it"...brilliant! I really love your poetry!
That’s very kind of you ☺️
A.M. I remember your poetry from last year, and always really enjoy it!
I always thought fear was
Big
And scary
A monster to my soul
But it was when I faced her I realized
Fear is a small child
Who is in it for my survival
I’ve learned she is much easier to work with
When I ask what the danger is
And hold her hand while we face it
Anyway
🤍🤍
Yes. Our inner child is so powerful, and needs so much gentleness ❤️
Fear is not something to fight, but to embrace. A friend not an enemy. And at times that is hard to remember. Thanks for the reminder.
Thank you - I see it this way too, and also find it hard to remember. It's a tough balance.
Yes. Invite him in. Ask him what brings him to visit.
Beautiful!
Good perspective!
This exceptional, Alexandra. I love the courage and wisdom, the compassion and empathy you shine into fear, a reminder to shine it not only into our own fear, but the fear we find in others that may cause difficult behaviors and challenges in our own lives..
Thank you, Larry! And yes, I love what you've brought out about the fear we find in others. A reframe can help us offer compassion to the people who frustrate us most. We are all just scared children in need of care and guidance, at heart.
I hear you Alexandra. These are brilliant insights.
God of the Sickle and the Harvest,
you promise us that death is not the end—
only a transformation.
For a while I needed this chaff
that allowed me to grow into wheat;
now strengthen me to face the fire
without fear, because
it’s on the other side of fire
that wheat becomes bread.
Amen ❤️
oh my goodness. Speaking goodness my friend
Thank you Danielle. 🥰🙏🏼
This is wonderful, January, amazingly powerful in a few words. Your poems are prayers and wisdom words that have an immeasurable deoth.
Thank you Larry. ^_^
"Perfect love casts out fear."
"Peace that surpasses all understanding."
Howard Thurman said that
his grandmother
wouldn't let him read
parts of the Bible
to her
because it reminded
her
of her
enslavement.
I think a lot about
this woman's
wisdom.
Through his work
she
was the first to give me permission
to not receive.
I do not need to receive platitudes
that refuse to acknowledge
my pain.
I do not need to receive prayers
when society at large refuses to accommodate
me
I do not need to receive willful misunderstandings
when
I
am not paid to educate.
Receive me.
That is the way to overcome your fear of
me.
Take heed.
This is not a nice poem.
.
.
.
sinking fangs into
flesh and bone
fails to inflict
fear's fatal laceration.
.
tearing and rending
heart and soul
unleashes within us
fear's ferocious finality.
This is powerful, Bob, and a wonderful use of letters and cadence! I like the way you begin--with the warning line!
I am a mother.
I am familiar with fear.
For who is fearless while their precious, precocious, unprotected heart walks around outside of their body?
I am a woman.
I know fear.
What woman hasn't crossed the road and walked with her keys spiked between knuckles to ward off the creeps?
I am a human.
Fear is a friend.
What else has kept our species alive through the generations but a finally-tuned sensor to threats?
Fear, for all its drawbacks, keeps us safe.
Now to find the balance.
To let the fear inform but not direct.
To temper the racing heart with a calm mind.
To know that we are both vulnerable and strong.
Powerless and potent.
Fear will not rule my life.
This is powerful and so brilliantly written, Sarah. And so true. You have put fear in such an honest and real context, in the process diminishing its power and strength. "Fear is a friend." a small line with big meaning. And your reminder that ferar is an instinct that can protect and keep us safe. This is true wisdom poetry. Thank you.
Thank you so much for your kind words!
Fear takes hold of me as the treeline
grows to a distant memory and the breeze
turns to wind. Open, expansive.
Exposed: to the elements, to the risk
of falling, to the realities within myself.
Nowhere to hide and nothing to grab. I turn onward. Is the fear holding me? Or
am I holding on to it? The different determines
where I place my foot next.
Very nice work, Mary Beth, and splendid use of nature to frame your relationship to fear.
Thanks Kaitlin, I loved your poem today, touching me deeply. My poem today goes to the feeling in my body when I am stuck in fear, which by the way I have been in the past couple of days.
.
Stuck in fear’s tight grip,
I’m inundated and besieged,
by a visceral clamping, clenching.
A drumming pulsation that beats
to a rhythm of suppression.
I’m either frozen in time or
scrambling for an answer.
Attempting to stay anxiety’s grasp
or a victim of worry’s hunger.
Nonetheless I am left overloaded,
overwhelmed, overwrought.
So completely over this!
Can it be as easy as unlocking my heart,
And opening my hand?
Hmmm, it sure is worth an honest try…
'worry's hunger'. Wow. That is an image that will stay with me
Frozen in time or scrambling for an answer. Thank you for putting my current season into words.
I love this Julie! You have given words to how I feel from time to time! Fear often strangles our words and creative impulses, and your words help release my own.
Forests of Fear
^
It came like a thunderstorm over high peak
unexpected, fierce and fearful in its fury,
early autumn hike high in the Blue Ridge mountains
Bright sunny day into breathless, disorienting journey.
^
Unable to catch my breath, heart pounding,
the sky and earth closing in around me,
panic, worry and fear gripped me,
my hiking partner fazed and dazed and afraid.
^
Some kind folks walked us back down the mountain.
Later in my doctor’s office he said, “you hyperventilated.”
Confused, I could find no how or why, no cogent explanation
as to how that fear found me on that mountaintop.
^
That next year I hiked alone a lot,
determined to face this unwelcome beast,
this invisible stranger invading my sacred places
seeking to paralyze me, contain me, fill me with fear.
^
It was a lonely year, and the beautiful places
Were filled with shadows with no names.
Telling no one, I moved through this lonely place
convinced the only way through the forest was through it.
^
Two years later, the high peaks of southwest Virginia our backdrop,
A new stranger entered my life.
Arrythmic rhythms and palpitating heart
discordant song breaking the melody of my life.
^
A journey unfolding of tests upon tests, theories and research,
confused wiring and ancestors with imperfect hearts,
no one to blame and no way to explain
the shadows seem to speak for themselves.
^
Decades later, I have learned to live with you.
The panic attacks have a name,
the arrythmias an annoying relative,
the beautiful moments in between precious lifelines.
^
Along this winding path, I have seen the real monsters
the creations of hate and anger, violence and fear,
lead me to rest in the quiet of each precious moment,
knowing that even in this forest of fear, there is Love.
Panic attack is somehow both an apt descriptor of what one feels like and not even close, isn't it? I love how you finish your poem with a reminder that fear isn't the enemy.
Yes, A., what a strange description. It feels so much stronger than a panic--and sometimes comes on without warning.
I keep seeing Lieutenant Dan in the crows nest of Forrest Gump's shrimp boat, having it out with god.
The only way thru his forest.
I love this reflection, Chuck! God bless Forrest Gump!
How can I accept that the root
of my anxiety is fear?
-
I’d rather it be more elusive
than that - the mysterious
“tug” that my mom and I dubbed
the “gut backwards” feeling
that would send me to
my closet’s darkest corner
knees up, head down
breathe
-
On the wall of that closet
I wrote a list of my fears:
violence, rape, death of
a loved one, even whales
(the ocean incomprehensible
to a girl from the plains)
but these are all
capital “f” Fears
the big ones
not the ones
that dictate my
daily existence
my daily
anxiety
-
I couldn’t stare down
the real fear that
clenched my body
and radiated out
around me with a
pulse of its own
the real fear of
rejection
failure
making too big of
a splash
taking up space
and being wrong
paving my own way
and being alone
-
These fears are the
rot I’ve inherited
from a culture
that bases power in
being the same
that requires courage
to merely be
human
-
So how can I accept that the root
of my anxiety is fear?
By believing that only in
excavating it I might
be free
'these fears are the rot I've inherited'. Wow. Yes. This reminds me of the image of a poison apple that emerged for me when I started my own therapy.
And the excavation is ongoing! I love this, Grace. It is so hones,t so perceotive and insightful. Your depiction of the Big "F" ears and the more mundane ones, that grip us every day, is brilliant. you expose the banality of fear so wonderfully well. Thank you for your remarkable poem.
Fear held me
Fear of failing
Fear of falling
Fear of being a fraud
Now I choose
Hope over fear
Hold on to the good
that is equally likely
Focus on a
brighter future
letting the fear fade
Jane, this made me rise up and shout "hooray" and applaud for your resilience and wisdom. Thank you for a great poem!