I have fears that I struggle to understand.
Not the kind that slither across the trail.
I have fears that I can’t put into words.
Not the kind that jump into my throat during air turbulence.
I have fears that my diary will never know.
Not the kind that pushes on my chest when I open the credit card bill.
I have fears…
I have fears that hold a knife to the neck of my identity.
I have fears…
I have fears for my children and wife that suffocate me whenever I acknowledge them.
I have fears…
I have fears for this country—this world—that are painted in apocalyptic reds and blacks.
I have fears…
I have fears…
My friend who will vote for “the other side” in the 2024 presidential election has fears.
He has fears that have flayed his soul and pierced his identity.
My friend who will vote for “the other side” in the 2024 presidential election has fears.
He has fears for his wife and children that hold his head underwater whenever he looks in their direction.
My friend who will vote for “the other side” in the 2024 presidential election has fears.
He has fears for this country—this world—that are painted in apocalyptic reds and blacks.
My friend has fears…
My friend has fears…
In 2024, we each have to decide what to do with our unspeakable fears.
Our fears can strip “the other” of their humanity.
There is a comfort in the twisted logic of dehumanizing.
But you cannot deny another’s humanity without doing damage to your own.
Or…
Our fears can help us to see the deepest fears of “the other” and thus grasp the fullness of their humanity.
Touching the humanity in “the other” is frightening.
It exposes one’s soul to the world, naked and vulnerable.
But you cannot embrace another’s humanity without becoming more fully human yourself.
My friend who will vote for “the other side” in the 2024 presidential election has fears.
I have fears…
Peace,
Ryan
