Falling

Aurophobia: the fear of the Northern Lights

How can you be afraid of something so untouchably far away?

I'm starting to believe that we might spend most of our lives behind telescopes

Convinced that if we distance ourselves from the world we are allowed to judge its every detail

I think that the stars have so much space between them because they don't understand each other

And neither do we

So we've separated our hearts by Milky Way miles

and have learned to believe that no amount of gravity can ground us

Bathophobia: the fear depth

I've come to understand that coffee shops brew trust and small talk

We keep a running list of details that we're fine with giving out

But we never seem to tell them why we're scared of walking under bridges because they make us feel like the world may come crashing down at any moment 

Or that we're scared of letting people into the gateway of our hearts because it gets messy

Arteries and broken dreams all wrapped up under ribs that cage our hopes and spirit

Kenophobia: the fear of voids or empty spaces

I'm convinced we've convinced ourselves that silence is worse than death

We desperately grab onto details and stuff them into the nooks of conversation

Filling each other's inhales with our own vocabulary

We hate conviction almost as much as we hate construction

Never wanting our hearts to admit that they're being worked on

Hard hats of hard-heartedness and work boots refusing to follow the detours

Basophobia: the fear of falling

I can count the number of times I've fallen out of bed and into prayer on no hands

But I can't begin to count the number of times I've fallen into shame instead of falling into You

Grabbing onto branches and ledges and ankles of others

Pulling ourselves into places we shouldn't be 

Instead of letting ourselves fail and be built up from fiery embers

We fear the fall itself more than the Flame

Making giving up control synonymous with giving up our names

But we will never fly unless we spend some time falling into heavenly currents of love and direction