Dear Fear,

I wish I could take away your pain.

I can’t.

I see you. I hear you. I feel you.

Fear masquerades as hate
Desperate for someone to blame
All the while
Longing for someone to take the pain away …

Please stop allowing the haters to protect you.
That won’t take away the pain.

Dear Fear,

I wish I could take away your pain. I can’t.

In the meantime,

I see you. I hear you. I feel you.

Fear masquerades as hate
Desperate for someone to blame
All the while
Longing for someone to take the pain away …

Please stop lobbing bombs of defensive anger
Endangering innocent bystanders.
That won’t take away the pain.

Dear Fear,

I wish I could take away your pain. I can’t.

In the meantime,

I see you. I hear you. I feel you.

We can speak
with love for ourselves
without needing to
blame, attack, or ridicule
another.

Dear Fear,

I wish I could take away your pain. I can’t.

In the meantime,

I see you. I hear you. I feel you.

We can speak
with love for ourselves
without
condoning or forgiving
the actions of someone else.

There is a courageous rage. A revelatory, open-hearted anger.

Defensive anger, blaming anger, the kind that slices and slashes wildly in the air, is a pale imitation of courageous rage.

Dearest Fear, please, speak to me from courageous rage
or, if you want to release the rage, then speak
from the depths of your frightened core.

Call my name.
Raise the hairs on my neck as you whisper on the wind.
I will feel you.

If you or someone you love is in danger,
then share your fear.
Shout it from the mountain tops.
I will hear you
and I will come running.

Stand before me
with an open heart.
I will see you.

Dear Fear,

I wish I could take away your pain. I can’t.

In the meantime,

I see you. I hear you. I feel you.

With passion & love,
Lauri