by James Crews
There are waves of stillness and peace that wait
in the spaces of our agitations and fear.
At the center of every fear
is a clearing, and though you must
trudge for miles in the dark woods
to get there, it’s worth the trip:
now you can sit down for a while
among grass and hawkweed, you can
bask in unfiltered light, and see
the heavy clouds shifting overhead.
At the center of every fear,
if felt completely, is an empty
space where the wind tickles
the hairs on your neck, then arcs
an arm around your shoulder,
pulling you closer like a father
at last unafraid to show affection,
here to let you know you’re not alone.