Where Fear Lives, A Poem By Me, Jon Katz

 

I meditated this morning, listening closely to the songbirds arriving early for Spring,

the feeder is full every day, and empty

every night.

I felt my heart cringing and my stomach flinch,

I thought  perhaps today I could finally learn 

where fear lived inside of me,

and I found her.

i had to go inside myself, again

she lives just below the heart and to the side of it,

she lives just where I feel her,

just above the stomach and to the east of it,

she lives in a roomy condo in the center of my body,

she never reveals the price or the entrance she used to move in,

I’m not sure I want to know.

she has a studio in there, small by my standards but

good enough for her. 

nice of you to visit me, she said; not the first time, I

reminded her.

i’ve been in worse places, she says, by far,

i never want to go back to Afghanistan, she said,

too much competition, and

an awful place for working women,

she is well set up down there, she says; she has an Iphone,

an Ipad, and a laptop, all fed

by electrolytes in the body connecting to the energy outside.

this energy thing is real, she says,

you get what you put out,

she is busy; all of her devices are on

day and night, they never run out of power, although it does ebb and flow,

depending on what I’m doing and what I have eaten.

if you want to get away from me, she said, meditate in the early afternoon,

that’s when I nap.

She has an app with my name on it, she told me (she actually showed me, and I gasped it was an old photo) and when she wants to scare me,

it’s quite easy; she taps on the app and taps twice on my image, and I pop up,

and upstairs, towards the top of me, 

i feel the heavy weight of fear  just above my stomach and just below my

heart. it feels like I’ve eaten something bad; sometimes I want to throw it up,

sometimes I do throw it up

sometimes it feels like I’ve swallowed a rock, and sometimes like I’ve been kicked in the stomach.

sometimes I want to throw up; sometimes, I want to hide.

Sometimes when I meditate, fear pops up down there and talks to me; she is nice and courteous but

a bit cold.

i never used to meet people, she told me, in the old days, people were busy and didn’t live too long.

Most people didn’t have time to be scared, and if they did, there was nothing they could do about it.

i used to frighten you all the time she said before all these new devices came out.

you were a great kid. We danced every night, starting when you wet the bed and moving on well into your grown up life.

you changed all the time, but you never left me behind.

and now, I can work from home

now, which is often you; I like it there and know where everything is.

I used to be able to scare the wits out of you just before sunrise when it is darkest and the

A 5-year-old version of you appeared.  we drove your dad crazy. while he was lecturing you,

I just went to town, dancing, singing, beating on drums… playing recordings of Ed Sullivan and Liberace,

you nearly went mad.

you were cute for a human boy and a playground for me but very serious. then you grow up.

If you follow the stats, which she said she does,  it is much easier to frighten the young and plant the spirit

of fear there, just below the heart. It makes them crazy, scars them, and steals their peace of mind.

older people get tired of me sooner.

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Where Fear Lives, Jon Katz