All was well and now I'm fighting everything in me that wants to fly away.
You mock the very thing that has brought such a richness of happiness to my soul.
That unbreakably happy girl that ran away and hid in the back corner of my heart had just come back out into a shadowy view and once again, at the sound of the voice, she bolts into the darkness.
I don't have the victory over bear or lion. I have yet to rip them in half with my hands - and there comes the strength to know that which mocks me can be killed at my hand.
And how can I? Every time I thought I had slain that which came to devour what I had within my watch, I stand my ground, only to find it is not the hungry eyes I'm staring at that takes me down.
No, it's the one on the other side of that fight that walks away. Left on my own once again. So the stare down ends in a stalemate, only to be picked up years later when the opportunity presents itself.
You can only be thrown away so many times before that confidence is shaken. It takes years and being thrown into a similar situation to realize it was a draw - you never did win - even though the reverberation had been silenced.
And yet, when the situation becomes different, when it looks like finally a united front, that confidence flees faster than ever when the giant comes with his history to mock and drive fear between my joy and the past.
All the rational evaluation in the world cannot silence the piercing words. And at that point it comes down to the failing attempt at drowning out the doubt, the fear, the idea that once again a stalemate will be drawn in pain. There is not enough work and distraction in the world anymore to forget and push it away.
No. This time, no matter what happens on the other end of the battle line, there will be no stalemate.
Goliath will be silenced.
Even if no one will join me on the line, I'll have his sword in my armory and his head on a staff proudly declaring his death.
Fear shall not win. The mockery of dreams will not shatter what I know to be real.
This time, the rock of the promise will shatter the skull and the Camp of the Righteous will erupt with celebration.
It's time for fear to die. No more draws. Never again. The last stronghold must fall.
©Kristen Garcia 10-2014
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