Am I afraid? I wish I had the understanding of that, I am exhilarated I want to run away I am compelled to go on I turn away in a shame with how I feel. Am I afraid? I have no words for how I feel no image even. Is the tree afraid when a storm so strong can uplift it from its ground? And how would a tree know to be afraid? But I am flesh and blood and when death is near I know to run I know to hide or fight, but there is no fighting death, it will come and I know not when. But not now it is not at my door tonight. But something is at my door. Something with the power and will of death but not death. It calls me to wake and to come and to live, and to … to what? I do not know what and yes there is anticipation some hesitation in that as I set these words down here. Am I afraid? Am I? Goldberg plays on Glenn Gould plays on and someone at my door says to me in a muffled voice that I can hardly make out “do not be afraid”.