Do I know fear?

Never been in a war, a burning building. Never heard a gun fire, saw a child die. Never spent the night next to a loved one as she fought for survival. Never slept under a bridge, missed a day without eating. Never been mugged, accosted, molested.

Do I know fear?

Please don’t make me justify myself. Please don’t ask me to compare. Don’t expect me to rank anything. Maybe, likely, indeed – I am one lucky son, father, husband, man.

I want to say it was Hemingway who wrote something to the effect, ‘it is easy to be brave at 3 in the afternoon’.

I can attest to that; I chase the shadows of terror every damn night. EVERY NIGHT!

Are we not all infants when the moon looks through darkened bedroom windows?

Sleep is no respite. Sleep is no rest. Slumber is a slaughter. A real war waged in a real world in real time with real consequences.

Cradle my paled, icy-cold, terror-stricken face; lift my head from the soaked sheet and still my thrashing arms; press your body against the artery bulging with racing pulse in my neck. And ask me again.

Do know.

I fear.