Aware and not,
certain, but not,
I wait in this place
eyes seeing the world
as something wonderful
something promising.
Inside the view is different.
The world is something terrifying
something unforgiving.

His voice changes tone,
soft, gentle, filling a void unknown.
Fear rises within,
horrified at walking that same path
that led to nowhere before.
Hope begins to open its unseeing eyes,
sending out a query
only to receive a forced silence.
The self is at war,
painfully stamping down the shields
trying to restore the calm that was,
while rising in wakefulness.
He questions me,
is there anything you would miss
if you left?
I cannot tell him that the answer
is yes and is no.
Yes would bely all that I still feel,
No would insure the separation.
He continues asking,
and I continue answering.
Belief that there was nothing left,
I tried to move on, succeeded a little,
frightened that I might turn back.
Half of me smiles in promise,
half of me frowns to deny
anything I would wish to believe again.
Would he understand if I pulled away,
would I let myself go?
Terror that something more
could begin to simmer underneath it all,
terror that I might actually let myself care.

He has seen me at my worst,
called me on it,
then allowed me time to recover,
accepting the hand once more
that I held out from behind my wall,
understanding me more than
I think I understood myself.
Will I finally open these gates
that keep me from believing,
or will I ultimately cringe backwards,
locking them from further intrusion?
Even I do not know the answer to that.

© Johanna Fugitt 2017