afraid

I am not afraid of you.
Not anymore.
If you come into my home
looking for something to shatter,
you will not find it.
If you come into my home
to tear the curtains,
uproot the foundations,
you will not find me there.
I will give you a place to rest.
To empty your fire.
To leave your vengeance at the door.
It is not welcome.
But when the rage has passed,
when you grow tired of spreading hurt,
there I will be.
Because, no. I am not afraid of you.
For I have seen what lies beyond the garden gate.
Beyond the hellfire, beyond screams, beyond the hardened oak.
I have seen the gentle kiss,
the devotion of the old man,
the soft embrace, reserved for
nothing in particular, open to all in need.

I have seen the rose,
blooming in the scorched earth we both once held dear.
And I have seen the things you fear to love, bloom with reckless abandon.
And I know that you are just at the beginning
Of something that could be beautiful
Of something kind.
So, when you are ready,
There I will be.
Yes, friend,
I am not afraid of you.