It was fear that brought us to this place so far away from home.
Fear of crime,
Fear of injury,
Fear of death.
It was fear that drove us to move away,
From the imbalances that affect our country’s security.
It was fear for our children’s lives,
Fear for their future,
That drove us to fly across the world.
It was fear for our children that motivated us,
Each and every day,
To not give up.
To strive for that moment when
All we feel is hope.
Hope for the future.
Hope for the children.
And hope that it is not all in vain.
If you have missed any of my Migrating North posts, head on over here.
Twilight was fading fast: the warning that we would soon be embraced by the darkness. I dreaded the moment when all would be black around us. Our eyes could not penetrate the dark as could those of our predators. Facing us, Mark signalled that we should go under cover, hiding our bodies from hungry eyes. I kept a lookout for a safe place that would bring us out of harm’s way. I wished the group had listened to me and moved in the direction I had suggested earlier. Now we were out in no-man’s land where the horizon was bare with no natural formations behind which to hide.
Suddenly my desperate eyes saw it! Lightened by the silver slither of a moon, I saw the rough outcrop of rocks. I touched the two people in front of me and pointed out the potential hiding place. Nodding, they touched those in front of them and quickly followed me to investigate. On closer inspection the outcrop was perfect. We settled on the rough ground in front of the outcrop and took out our protective covers. Huddling next to my partner, I inflated the darkened fabric that mirrored the colour of the rocks behind us. We became a part of the isolation of the land, blending in with our surroundings. We would not be seen now. All we had to do was calm our dread and they would not sense our fear.
I lay down and slowed my breathing. We would wait out the dreadful night and, in the light of day, continue our journey towards hope and salvation.
These are the words my young student sometimes said as she walked towards the carpet in the morning. The finale? The huge grin on her face as she looked at me for my reaction. These were probably words her older siblings said to her while they were playing games such as “monster” or “tag”.
And I think this should be our treatment of fear – acknowledge it, and then grin at it. Being afraid often paralyses us and prevents us from acting, from moving forward. We allow the fear to grip us, to bind our actions and movements so that we become passive onlookers. Our fear takes on the dimensions of the unknown in horror movies. We scream internally, afraid to step forward, or to step back.
And yet if we acknowledge and respond as we do in the game we play with children, our fear would take on less importance. It would still be there as we are experiencing the moment; but it would not paralyse us and prevent us from moving forward in our lives.
Often now, when I think of fear, and of being afraid, I think of a grinning six year old girl with long pigtails approaching me with the stance of Frankenstein. I cannot help but smile, and feel the fear lessen its tight hold just a little.
The following is the continuation of a story I began as a result of a prompt given by Kellie Elmore. I continued this story writing as she encourages people to do: with no editing and no backtracking – to write until you can write no more. (If you missed the previous posts, here are the first and second)
I feel the power building inside of me as the tranquillity settles in my mind. The mists swirl around me. Covering me and protecting me. I bring forth the moisture and I feel the fine raindrops begin to fall. The angry shouts begin to falter. I sense the fear: the fear that turns the hate into uncertainty. The fear adds to the misty barrier that I have created between them and me. The crowd halts, uncertain of whether to continue.
And I look skyward, confident in my attunement with nature. And then I see the crowd begin to blur. Their faces and hostile bodies begin to fade. I see through the forms and stare in wonder as, bit by bit, they disintegrate. The hate-filled crowd is gone; yet I still keep myself shrouded in my blanket of mist. For I have come to realise that I had just faced my biggest fear: my fear of being mobbed because of my gift; my fear of not being understood.
It is only those who have a weak mind that are unable to cross this bridge. I had just passed some sort of test, I am sure. I grab a handful of berries from my pouch and eat them slowly, one by one. I must not let my guard down until I had crossed over this magical entrance to the city I wished to visit. I am uncertain of what other fears are locked away in the deep recesses of my mind.
I walk the entire day shrouded in mist, the cool air keeping my body from overheating. I am able to drink from the moisture in the air, and eat from my pouch. I do not stop as I am eager to reach my destination; eager to meet the person who is able to control minds from such a great distance.
It is almost twilight when I see the lamp posts standing guard at the other end of the bridge. My footsteps quicken with renewed energy. At last! As my foot leaves the bridge, two figures materialise in front of me.
“Welcome traveller. We have come to guide you to our Queen.”