Erosion of Fear

“Oh, but we’re afraid of silly little things,” I explain,
“like my daughter won’t phone for pizza even if she pays.
I won’t phone new people, especially if they’re single men,
even if I need help and not calling means huge delays.”
“Why not?” asks my friend the priest, puzzled, then says, “Never mind.
Just call him. He offered you a ride. Or I’ll help. Call me.”

“Really?” I ask. “We’re ‘family’,” he shrugs, “I can give rides.
Just let me know if you need a ride to Mass. I’ll agree.”

I still can’t make myself phone, though, but when I see the guy
I ask, “Are you coming tomorrow?” “Sure,” he says, “Need a ride?”
Mutely, I nod. “No problem. That’s easy.” I want to sigh.
It’s easy now, I guess, but seemed so hard. I don’t confide.
Back to business, there’s work to do. I feel pretty silly.
Later, he grins and mouths, “Easy!” Alright, then, it’s easy.


2 responses to “Erosion of Fear

  1. I agree that phoning people to ask for something is anything but easy. Yet we all need help and people are surprisingly happy to help. Gifts need recipients I guess.

    • When I started this, I was going to talk about the fear of death, fear of pain, fear of love, all these profound things, but could not make them work poetically. It was too hard, and too preachy. So maybe I can get to those some other time. This was a small fear, but the way it was eroded is somewhat similar to the greater fears.

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