on fear, and the overcoming of it

the wallpaper had grey and brown kittens
my grandmother would pretend to pet
"the look so real", she joked

at night
the closet growled at me
whenever it was left open
(so I made sure to close it.)
hours ticked
while i sat, tight-shouldered
in darkness
my sister breathing soft
across the room

I thought
my stuffed animals were lonely
and needed to stay together
I also thought
the germs on my chapped hands
might kill me if I didn't wash
every few minutes
(and it would be
my fault.)

I didn't learn
to sleep
until I learned to rest
I couldn't trust the morning
until I trusted You

that's how I remember it, at least.

how, somehow, I began to say "it's
ok. I can leave the light switch alone"
("I don't have to recheck it")
To stand,
while the fear
splashed- hard,
filled
and then,
 ebbed past
While I sat- white knuckled
to the idea of Someone
Big enough to hold it.