I was Much Afraid too

brown deer near tree
Photo by Vincent M.A. Janssen on Pexels.com

My sister prodded.
She was brave
charging through boundaries
turning carts of questions
safely hidden in my head.

I knew why.
I knew.

It was an assumption-
I’d get married. Have kids…
do whatever my parents did.
It weighed on me,
even at ten.
This idea that I would acquiesce my life
accepting my fearful identity.

At sixteen
I heard the Shepherd sing.
It was time to go.
Time to take hold
of those strange hands
Sorrow and Suffering.

Familiar strong hands
pressed over my mouth.

I was so afraid.
I knew fear
and how to appease him.
I knew how to keep myself
in his limits.

All the way home from that
trysting place
I trembled at the thought
of facing my friends-
I was so afraid.
I hid in the backseat.
Petrified into a migraine.

Years passed.
In a fog,
this isn’t where he
promised to take me.
Nowhere near places higher.
Sinking in depression’s mire.

Maybe it had all been a lie.
Maybe I should have stayed
with that Craven Fear guy.

But didn’t she go through this too?
Didn’t she make it through?

I sometimes picture the Shepherd’s face
all jolly, head back
mouth ajar with a hearty laugh.
And I chuckle.

He sure is doing a “preposterous thing”
turning weak, fearful me
into one with stag’s feet-
leaping to precarious heights,
descending freely to the least.

1 Comment

  1. Kandace says:

    Courageous… Strong…. Humble…. Truth…. adjectives to discribe my sister.

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