Tickle Me Fear

poem in my inbox this morning, from my goddess-in-motion sister, YaliniDream

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Perhaps
if every raised hand was
a tender call
each roar from the sky
a pending storm
each flash of light in the dark
a firefly

And each body pressed against another
was to meant to comfort and warm…

If the world was absent of violence and war

Perhaps
we’d think of fear as a delicious thing
that tickles the breast bones from within.

Like the flutter that comes
before breath turns to song
Or the quickening beats of a
heart slowly falling in love.

Fear would be skin prickling
at the sound of truth confessed
the shivers from thunder
so enormous it cracks in your chest.

If each flash in the night was a firefly
Perhaps fear would simply be
the feeling
that sits
next to the divine.

Read YaliniDream's Prayer For Peace In Sri Lanka