What Good is Fear that Slumbers Here?

A challenge cracked wide open my door

and stared at me as it had before

but when it moved inside my head

the tune it played stirred up the pain I’d left below for dead.

Then something dark, once dear to me,

came out again for me to see.

He laughed at me.

I wonder how to make him stop.

He rolls his eyes and won’t comply.

Maybe if I try real hard to act as if he has no hold

upon the person I’ve become,

he will run.

I want to be away from him,

so black and old and scraped to death.

I want to step outside my skin, not be afraid to live again.

I want to know that I am free to be the one I’m here to be.

Now he shows not himself to me but he is there.

I feel him, see?

Would this fear dare follow me if I were bold enough

to flee into the dark of night?

Let’s fill this body with red wine and slip away

through trees sublime

with earth so firm she meets my feet.

I run and breathe her air.

She holds me tight.  She drums my beat.

I lose the fright.

I think I do not care.

And cool she is against my heat.

This soothed my bones.  I went to sleep.

He tried to come and swallow me

but dreams are more than reverie.

What good is fear that slumbers here?

No bars to climb.  No lines to keep.  

All efforts creep beyond his reach.

The choice to put my head to rest, she smiles at this.

With eyes closed shut, I see her there,

reflecting light like golden hair.

He looks so small compared to bliss. 

Again she smiles at this.