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A Mediation on Fear-Crushing
A reflective poem inspired by the work of Chistrian Delgado
What ails that space in me, that crippling vacuum packed nucleus that makes its gathering place in my cells?
It's nickname is fear; it's impulse is to weaken the walls of my being.
It is the rapture of many joys; its anatomy is malleable, turning up in my nightmares which are teeming with serpents.
I was always taught to tremble at its hiss.
It permeates my night times. Without your body heat, I am fragile.
Sometimes I envision my elderly self. The slow cessation of loved ones into that infinite dimension.
What if I am the leftover one, the memories faded but palpable.
My constitution wobbles at the thought.
To crush this virus, to relieve its hold on the sanguine fluid that yearns for life, for breaths, for the vigor of a spirit spellbound by possibility, not futility.
We ascend our fears by choosing a fresh perspective.
For fear is a reflection of our heartsong.
And our melody should be nicknamed transcendence.
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