Love Grown Fears

For Kyle, My Darling Son When four, I knew my soul had claustrophobia in it. More than once it has caused me public panic fits. Once, I declined a job located in a super high rise for fear it would sway or rock me to an awful demise. As cures I plan no coffin, avoid full planes, tight spaces, roof edges and elevators with terrifying glass faces. Often before sleep, I think the devil visits from hell. He attempts to solidify my fears of sorrow that dwell on my Mother’s death which is a normal eventuality and my treasured love’s death which none can foresee. I can bid the devil to depart back to dark fairly easily; changing my head's channel is a successful remedy. But I cannot grasp, shake, rationalize or compromise make a fear that causes my angst to quake, my emotions to break. I turn to God in constant prayer, seeking my answer there. I ask God for His soothing and a solution He will share. Thoughts of my challenged son’s life after I am gone grow my despair and tears from the worry they spawn. Who will hug him good night and then again each dawn? Who will love him to ensure his self-value dwells on? He will need a loving touch and acceptance to lean on. I fear and hurt, knowing such blessings are not foregone. I would rather be sealed in a coffin on a roof way high than my precious one be love abandoned after I die.