Love is fear's mother,
and she calls you to see
everything you are afraid of.

Let it be before you. Accept it.
Accept the broken glass
and childhood spilled
like lemonade, and the wrinkled
brow, and the nightmares
and the scary movie,
built to taffy-stretch the curl of your spine, accept it.
And let it go.

And the heaps of crumpled paper in your torso
will start to smooth in tandem with your opened fists.
While sweet, sweet words are written fresh
in clean tears of grief.