Boots

tap, tap, tap

It doesn’t take much—
a thought, a sound, an echoing phrase
in your long-losing mind—
to steal away that lifted feeling.
You know the one,
where life feels weightless,
free.
The warm touch of your lover’s hand on your leg,
the grin between your baby’s chubby cheeks,
the quiet of newly fallen snow,
the sipping of coffee by the frosty window—all of it
sending you soaring.

But fear
is hunting and
haunting and
hating you with red-hot hatred.
You hide,
watching from under the bed, this intruder,
this joy-thief,
this monster,
whose boots tap, tap, tap, across the floor of your mind.
Hand over mouth, you brace yourself.
“I don’t want to be alive like this, Lord. Not like this.”
You run.

But Love,
Love’s pursuit of you is even more relentless
than your anxiety.
Love slipped on flesh,
put on “boots,”
and ran after you.
Tap, tap, tap—and suddenly,
you’re caught.
You still hear fear’s panting, but
you’re carried.

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ICYMI
Recent Essays, Articles, and Poems:
The Baby Who Came to Annihilate Death on Gospel-Centered Discipleship
What is Tragedy’s Size? on Substack
Grief Oblivion on the blog
Like Mama, Like Son: Facing Anxiety Together on Risen Motherhood
November Recs | The Bible and Anxiety + What's on My Christmas List