Step away from your fears.
Lay them down on the floor.
Watch them fall from your hands
like a dirty load of laundry.
see it slower.
Change the speed in your mind
to a theatrical slow-motion.
Like a movie.
as each fear hits the ground
and cascades like cloth
across the floor.
look at them.
See them shed from your skin.
Laying before you.
Staring down at the pile before you.
Looking down upon them:
With their different shades
Some fears worn thin,
like the blue jeans you’ve worn too much
that say to you, “It’s normal. Play it safe.”
Some fears intimidate you,
like those pristine cashmere sweaters
that say, “It’ll be ruined. Don’t do it. You’ll destroy it.”
Some fears you choose repeatedly,
like those black leggings you own five pairs of
that say, “It’s simple. It’s plain. Maybe I’m too boring.”
Some fears you can’t seem to throw away,
like those cheap sunglasses with the scratches
that say, “It’s inexpensive. It’s cost efficient. It’s the smart thing to do.”
Some fears you put on only at night,
like those tattered bedtime pajamas
that say, “It’s comfortable. It’s familiar.”
Some fears beckon you from the dark corners of your closet,
like those fancy dresses you keep hidden
that say, “It’s too much. It’s too risky.”
chosen for a specific event or occasion.
Chosen based on the weather.
Chosen based on the circumstance.
Or the company.
Some fears you’ve worn a thousand times;
the color has faded.
Some you just picked up yesterday;
they’re new, shiny, and thick.
weren’t chosen by you
but were given to you.
By your parents and grandparents,
your coworkers and friends.
And even though you don’t really like them,
and even though you don’t really wear them,
you’ve kept them anyway.
look down upon them.
See them on the ground
See them for what they are.
And then don’t pick them up again.
Don’t put them back on
unless you plan to clean them.
Or better yet,
throw them all away
and just go naked.