Loud Grace

Martialing my arts

I fight off fear.

I line up my thoughts like soldiers:

Count your blessings!!

Send love out to the world!

Stay in the present!


But the moment comes when

fear wisps in through the cracks

wondering what’s next

whispering what ifs.

It slips past my sleeping sentries


like carbon monoxide

like a virus

unnoticed until it’s dug itself in.


A door flies open and

like superman

like a whirlwind

not using his inside voice

my grandson yells

Amma, can you play with me?



Fear flees like fog phantoms

blown away by five-year-old exuberance.

— Carol Mitchell