Fearing A Blast From the Past

Fearing A Blast From the Past

I shudder within
in worry of what may come to pass;
I've felt this before,
a burning love for another,
an insatiable desire to show them
the me that no one else sees,
to hold out my heart
so she might inspect it
with a deep understanding
of the scars etched across it
and the flaws that pump through it,
occasionally filling me
with a wretched, sinful taste,
and accept it as she would
a newborn looking for some sort of guidance
in a miserable and spiteful world.
And yet, I've also felt the wicked rush
as I was dropped from the cliffs of peace,
thrown among the wolves without a cry of warning.
One day I simply awoke in the wilderness once again,
only now naked and exposed to the spiteful crowds
who would sooner shun me that shake my hand.
Can I handle such harm once again?
It's felt easy, felt.... RIGHT
to extend myself to another
after months in my personal asylum,
trying to make sense of the madness
rushing through my head
like a river overflowing,
flooding my mind with danger.
But there is always that risk,
the chance that I'll awake
to an empty heart
that slowly fills with loss and fear,
a chalice of woe.

I shudder to myself
in my sightless fright,
again and again letting her know
just how I feel about her,
uncertain of how much longer I'll have to say it.
And suddenly, she,
with eyes glossy with wisdom,
seeing my plight,
strides swiftly to my side
with a wide smile and a reassuring sigh,
taking me in her arms
and whispering with my heart,
showing me the safety
of unbreachable love,
held together with a mighty mortar
that she applies to my knobby knees
and uncertain elbows,
showing me that I'm worth holding,
that I can be cared for,
that I am not alone.
So, let the past lay down its sword,
for its edge can no longer cut me;
such a rusty old weapon could never pierce
a thick new armor as strong as this,
shining in her sunlight,
showing the world
that we have a hope worth reaching for.