Hug your fear like a friend abandoned
in a sidewalk,
With no clothes, no shelter on its head.
Protect her from the rain pouring above you
and take her into the comfort of your home.
Feed her with the soup from your very own pot.
Offer her the warmth of your worn-out couch and crisp blanket.
Ask her how she found herself in your street,
in front of your home.
And when she tells you the reason for her appearance,
Listen to her words and her advice.
Her pleas hidden beneath hurtful actions.
When she tells you, you need to change, you change,
because your fear is not a stranger.
She is what you could be.
She is the best of you hidden beneath your past self.
And she offers you no comfort of familiarity.
That’s why you’re scared.
You’re scared of the risks
and the what-if’s the goes with it.
But as you tell her to sleep
and as you wrap her around that crisp blanket
and go upstairs to that familiar bedroom,
With its bookshelf on one side and bed on the other;
you tell yourself, you cannot stay here forever.
So, the next day, you make breakfast
and invite her over for some coffee.
But instead of sugar, you pour milk
and it’s such a little thing but you can see your fear
You both joke and laugh like you were past friends.
Just now, again, speaking to each other.
Finally, you walk her out of the door.
Offer your regards and your thanks.
Then you watch her walk off like nothing happened.
You know you’ll see her again,
for a different purpose,
during a different time.
But you must always remember to receive her with kindness
because to let go of a fear,
you must first embrace it.