A Fear that Runs Deeper

Deeper than the thought which lies within awareness
Deeper than the churning uneasiness which presents itself
When
A group of unknowing jurors passing by
Hands down invisible judgment.
Silent mocking ensues.

Years of inhaling the noxious fumes of one’s own dark imaginings
Blackening the spirit
Slowly killing

Recurrent trauma
With every glance
Checking to see if self-worth
Reveals itself
In the form of a
Carefully crafted complexion or
Having every hair in its place

Alas

On every encounter with that spiteful shiny slate
A frightening fiend stares back
Far from the perfect angel which
Exists in the mind’s eye.

The heart fills with frustration and yearning.
The spirit feels as though it is collapsing
Like the walls of a burning temple
Imploding.

However

When the fear rises up,
The spirit presses on
To face its illusory accusers.
First, looking up at that cold slate
To face the cruelest one of them all.