Mama Said

Mama never said the word "fear." She spoke around it like a bonfire, regaling me with sweet-nothings. But I know how to be afraid. It is instinct like a lioness on the hunt. I, the unlucky soul, am captured; withering away with every gnash of her teeth: piercing bone and muscles and soul. Mama always spoke the word "courage" and I didn't know how to be courageous. Yet my legs still kick fighting the lioness and I fight 'til I am drained. It's a lesson she didn't teach because it's self taught. Mama never said the word "fear," that's what she was: young, misunderstood, a new born in the old world. But she spoke of "courage" because that's what she became: a wife, mother, and role model.