Who did my fears look like when you see them the way I see them, can you tell?
It was a question that my mind decided to accept as a gentle guest. I have noticed that my guests aren't savage or brutal when they decide to have a visit. We talked over nights after nights for it. It seems, after all, I'm not a bad negotiator. Few days ago, I was reading a book called Who Does My Grandma Look Like? (Feridun Oral, 2022) with bunch of kindergartners beside me. A breezy sunny day, dozens of doe eyes looking for my approval, and the satisfaction of actually doing something... Perhaps these were the reasons that strengthened my unbelievable admire toward this book the moment I heard the first word of it but whatever it is, something tingled my heart sweetly. Not long after, flashing lightnings hit my head in every corner. It was the heat of something that has been frozen for a long time.
A long gone grandma and a loving grandson trying to remember her face vaguely, sometimes as a little lamb, sometimes as a frog or sometimes as a hooting night owl.
As I was sitting there, among a new workplace, thousands meters away from my comfort zone, I tried to remember my most vile company. It still has a room in this territory but its castle has been wrecked. I tried to remember its face but it shaped in many forms each time.
Did my fears look like a tallest skyscraper that always felt like falling?
Is it the reason I still feel dazzling feeling and a excited, pounding heart whenever I look down from a certain height? I look at it, and I'm thousands of floors up in the sky. It's shaky, unreliable, and foggy as much as it gathered up all the clouds in the entire sky. I can't open my eyes yet I see everyone bigger than they are. How is it possible? It's this skyscraper. It's this damn skyscraper.
.
Did my fears look like a kamikaze plane that is ready to die?
The "s" word. The secret, sacred, scary mission. It was the form my fears hide under when I try to look at their eyes, begging them to free me. But when I try to find its eyes, I would see them shaping as big plane wings, flying haphazardly, without a destination, without a purpose, just would make them enough to crash into the arms of the mother Earth. I would cry as it was rotate around my head, tightly closing my eyes, hoping that it wouldn't find me. Yet, it was only my own darkness, everything else except me were seeing me clear as a day.
Did my fears looked like a cracking tree that only the fool see the ugly on it?
So it is. Cracked, destroyed, ripped into the sheds! It asked for the worse, so, it became the worse. My fingers denies to wander on it. As if it's hearing my grunting, it would pull me closer into itself, screaming, "LOOK! LOOK! I'VE CRACKED JUST TO GROW. I'VE LET THE DESTRUCTION FIND ME." Then it would whisper to my ears like a lullaby, so gently, so caring, "don't be afraid. I'm not hurting anyone, not myself, not you. Believe me believe me believe me."
Did my fears look like ..... ME?
Who are you?
Who are you?
Who are you?
You're all covered in blood! Someone, somebody, HELP! She is...
She is..
Let me reach your hand. Let me kiss your most closed scars. Let me wash your blood covered hands.
Let me be the one who helped you.
Let me be the one who killed you.
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