Hello, Fear

Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer


How does she do it? She hitches a ride on the blow, a stowaway on that which brings her down.
—Teddy Macker, “The Mosquito Among the Raindrops”

There I was, making tea in my kitchen,
when fear hit me like a school bus.
I didn’t need a scientist or therapist
to tell me it hurt.
I screamed: Arghh! I shouted: No!
But after smashing into me,
fear just opened the folding glass door
of the bus, yanked me on,
then plopped me into a green vinyl seat.

I’m scared, I said.
Yeah, fear said. ’Cause I’m scary.

Yeah, I squealed, as the bus careened
through the couch, through
my bedroom, through the splintering
dining room table.

What if I lose everything? I said to fear.
Yeah, said fear, what if you do?

And who will I be when everything changes?
Yeah, said fear, who will you be?

Then he opened the door
and shoved me off the bus
and I was standing again beside
the familiar green counter,
tea cup in hand, not a drop spilled.

Who will you be? he shouted
from the half open window.

I took a deep breath,
not knowing how to respond,
then stepped into my life,
determined to live into the answer.


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