This is a little less poetic, and a little more essay, but I have not had time to write as I would have liked, and this is what wanted to be written tonight.
As I listened to Nikia Chaney
describing her desire to give fear
a face and make it known through writing,
I was transported to a primitive place
surrounded by darkness and unknown dangers
lurking in the shadows, clicking and clawing
at the recesses of my mind, and I realized
that early man lived in fear of the unknown.
How comforting it must have been to
name those sounds and be calmed by knowledge.
How words evolved into story telling,
which begat ethos and mythos.
How powerful it is to name our fears,
suddenly bringing them out into the open,
confronting them and finding there is nothing.
To deny the right to utter a name
like JHVH, or He Who Shall Not Be Named,
takes us back to our primal fear,
to deny our voices the right to speak
our truths is to live in fear.