I’ve been thinking about my various darknesses and comparing them—sadness, anger, fear. You will soon know which one I hate the most. Sadness has lived in my heart for a long time; at last I am bringing him soup and making friends with him. Anger was sorrow’s familiar coverup, and one of the ways I stayed alive; I do not need him so much now. But fear is new.
Sadness lies abed of a morning with a question mark that sucks the meaning from the newborn day
And anger turns the viewpoint red, tips over tables, soils all the memories
But fear sits in the corners of the soul
Sadness weights the body, ages the skin, dims the seeing of the eyes
And anger sears inside, liquid fire that eats away at its own substance
But fear is naked
in the dark.
Sadness stretches into eternity, a hole in the heart to carry until death
And anger fixates on the past, obsessing, revenging
But fear steals both away and leaves
only the abyss.
Sadness calls effectively for help, for arms around the soul, for soup and flowers at the door
And anger shoves hard for space and power, autonomy
But fear peers, silent, from a fine looking body and cannot convince anyone
that there is aught amiss.
Sadness has tears
And anger has volume
But fear has
nothing to wield.
Sadness is a grown woman bereft, Rachel weeping for her children
And anger is a warrior, Goliath blustering on the field
But fear is a broken child, Mephibosheth splayed on the stone floor,
and who will take care
Sadness lies abed of a morning without answers for the question
And anger rages round the room overturning furniture
But fear sits frozen in the corners of the soul
and cannot even
When fear lives in my heart, I play him Scripture, and I share him with a mentor. What else? What do you do with yours?