The Beast

There is also a wide metal band around my neck attached to the chain that is attached to the beast that is fear. Sometimes the band is around my wrist instead--or in addition to.

The Beast has turned into my cherished chow-chow Cherokee. It's not a bad Beast after all. (When Cherokee died, I instantly vowed I would not even THINK about that, would not look back even to the good memories, would not let in the grief, lest it overwhelm and choke me. I have since renounced that vow--but I still don't let myself go there.) This beast is safe, like Aslan, she will walk me out of the stable.

Who am I kidding? The leash that binds us is still a chain. This Beast is not a pet at all. Just because it is mild at the moment means nothing. It has strong teeth and sharp claws. It could turn and harrow me in an instant.  

har·row ¹  (hr)

n.

A farm implement consisting of a heavy frame with sharp teeth or upright disks, used to break up and even off plowed ground.

tr.v. har·rowed, har·row·ing, har·rows

1. To break up and level (soil or land) with a harrow.

2. To inflict great distress or torment on.

Yes, that's the right word.

I am the sacrificial lamb, maybe for all humanity. Somebody has to be. I am the world's trash can, the world's toilet, all the garbage--

It hurts Me when you do that. 

(September 6, 2012)