The Poem God Wrote Me

"You have all these fears
all these fears that you have masqueraded as truth
that you have placed
so daintily on the shelf in your living room
that you have made the centre of your days
and the objects of your nights

"All these fears
that you dust and polish
that you gaze upon in the flowing morning light
and fluff and pamper
and dote and coo over

"You have all these fears
that sit pretty in your heart
different colours and shapes and sizes
and textures and weights

"They've been there for years
and you can't get rid of them
and you can't understand them
you don't know of their origin or their trajectory

"And yet there they are
as real as your heartbeat
as dominating as grey clouds over damp beach
as heavy as concrete

"All these fears

"Won't you clean them out someday?
Have a yard sale and trade them in for some joy
for some light, for a little freedom?

"For how long will you cradle your fears?
For how long will you sing them to sleep and kiss them awake?
Are you not tired
of fearing what you do not even understand?
Of making mountains out of molehills?
Of burying all the beauties of life in layers and layers of
scarves and trench coats churned out of worry?

"Do you not know
that eighty-five percent of all the things that you fear
never happen?
Do you not know
that I left my spot in heaven just to come down here and get you?
Do you not know
that, literally, I did not die for this -
for worry to make mockery out of you?
Do you not know
that I love you with a love that will burn all your fears into ash
and blow them, all of them, away?"