Fear--A Poem

I feel in love years ago,

back when I was still a child~~

too young to understand

the complexity of the new emotion.

I knew one thing for sure:

all I wanted to do was write.

So I did.

Page after page,

journal after journal,

I created worlds,

destroyed homes,

intertwined the lives

of complete strangers.

This is the power

that writing has--

it made me a goddess

of my own world

where I was free

to experiment and destroy

as much as I pleased.

Oh, it was rapture.

And then,

one day,

I could not recall

how to create.

I could not remember

what it felt like

to be a weaver of fate.

I've tried.

Gods help me,

how I've tried.

Yet fear

takes me by

the back of the neck

and holds me,

digs its fingernails

right into my spine

and whispers with sour breath,

"You'll never be good enough."

I hate them.

I know they has been the reason

why my powers have all but

disappeared.

I am tired of fear.

There is a sun

burning in my mind,

its flames flickering

into the darkness,

begging for a torch,

a place to rest,

desperate to not be swallowed up

by void and emptiness.

I am still afraid.

But now the hold is

not so tight,

the fingernails

easing from the bone

to allow for sweet relief,

even if only for

a moment or two.

Fear will not be my mistress.

I call upon you again,

the ancient forces that dwell

in my blood.

I summon you from the depths

and ask you grant me your

power and strength once

again.

Hear me,

great deities of

story, song and poetry,

I ask for your aid.

Guide me as you once did

so many years ago.

I am ready.

I am ready.

I am ready.