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.

 

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Attempted a Pindaric ode…

Poem: © Kristiana Reed 2020

Between the Trees UK

Between the Trees US

https://linktr.ee/KristianaReed