Sometimes the wind whispers, calls
through the trees, whistles through cracks
and we listen for danger, for tangible nightmares.
A footstep on the stair, a scratching at locks.
Sometimes shadows play death
upon the bedroom walls and we wonder
which darkness is safer.
We forget the many names of bravery.
We forget valour can be small, can be
the act of opening your eyes to
the too close walls around us.
Bravery is more than hand holding or the hilt
of a golden sword, laden with jewels.
Bravery is love, bravery is life,
bravery is stepping forward when you could
be lying down, face turned to a wall
which will never have the answers.
Sometimes the wind calls and we should
be listening for the birdsong,
for the thrumming of blood and time in our veins.
Fall in love with yourself. Play hopscotch
with your fear; hop and star jump the sound
of fright away until love is written between
skin and muscle, muscle and bone.
Love the sound of the dark and its promises;
the promise life will begin again and again
and again. Do not forget bravery
has many names: it is yours too.
Attempted a Pindaric ode…
Poem: © Kristiana Reed 2020