I stood transfixed, unable to move. The huge beast loomed towards me. I was powerless to stop it. Its black form made it hard to see its features, its speed made it impossible to defend myself. I can smell its breath as it overcomes me, its teeth and claws threatening to destroy me.
These beasts are everywhere, day and night. There is no escaping them. No defence.
Some brave warriors attempt to control them, to tame them. Some succeed. The beasts, once tamed, are considered safe.
But if they escape, they revert back to wild. Sometimes they form packs. They will tear through the flesh of livestock, indiscriminately nash at any living creature that happens across their path. The low growl, teeth bared is your only warning of impending doom.
They smell your fear. It empowers them. They grow in size. Their eyes flash. They block your path, surround you, toy with you, before devouring you.
Even as I write about these beasts, my heart races. My skin crawls at the thought of their touch, the sound of their voices. These unnatural beasts, even those seemingly under control by the brave warriors, are weapons primed for attack.
I never imagined that I would one day have to confront such a beast directly. I had definantly avoided contact for many years, managing to anticipate their presence and seek cover before I was noticed. But it was becoming increasingly hard. These beasts lurk where children play, and now as a mother I could not avoid them any longer. More importantly now, as a mother, I had to protect my own from the beasts. I could no longer cower in fear, using avoidance as my strategy.
I had to face the beasts head on.
Knowing the power my fear gave them, I learned to overcome it. I pushed it down, and spoke with a strong voice:
You have no power over me!
Until I believed it myself.
The beasts began to shrink.
I saw them differently now. They were no longer fearsome, but rather awkward looking. With a desperate wanting in their eyes. A need. I understood the warriers now. I was able to emulate the way of the warrior. I could command the beast.
Motherhood showed me my inner power. No longer did I fear the beast, but I saw it for what it was. Nothing more than another living creature, with it’s own needs and instincts.
In understanding the beast, I could overcome the fear.
And whilst I do not seek the beast, I no longer need to avoid it.