When Insecurity Whispers

There is a shadow

that walks without footsteps,

a voice that borrows my own tongue

and bends it inward.

She does not shout.

She rusts.

She touches the beams of belief

until they groan softly in the night.

She presses fingerprints

into the glass of my becoming

and calls the smudge truth.

She names herself caution.

She names herself wisdom.

She says she is guarding me

from the sharp edge of hope.

But she feeds on shrinking.

She sows smallness

in the soil of my ribs,

waters it with imagined rejections,

harvests a field of almost.

And still

There is another Presence.

Not loud.

Not frantic.

Steady as breath before dawn.

It does not argue with her.

It outlives her.

When the cold hand of refusal

brushes my shoulder,

this Presence does not flinch.

It wraps warmth around my doubt

and calls me chosen.

When fear sketches futures

of locked doors and narrowing halls,

this Presence opens a window

in the sternum

and lets light spill inward.

It reminds me:

I was not shaped

for retreat.

I was not given longing

to be starved by it.

The seas have parted before.

Paths have risen where none were drawn.

Mountains have answered to a whisper.

So let insecurity murmur.

Let her circle like mist around my ankles.

I will stand.

Because the One who breathes stars

into blackness

has breathed into me.

And rust cannot survive

in that fire.

Reviews

[Betty Hermelee]

We all have fears at sometime in our lives, with which we have to fight and suffer to see the light out of the darkness… whoever is your savior is not doing a good job; you must crawl out of shadows, out of rust
And and into the light…. Very powerful
And excellent images
Warmly
B🌸

[John the Baptist]

We all have fears of one sort or another. It appears you know this, but also know the antidote to it.