For My Young Friends Who Are Afraid in  General   

There is a country to cross you will
find in the corner of your eye, in
the quick slip of your foot--air far
down, a snap that might have caught.
And maybe for you, for me, a high, passing
voice that finds its way by being
afraid. That country is there, for us,
carried as it is crossed. What you fear
will not go away: it will take you into
yourself and bless you and keep you.
That's the world, and we all live there.

By William Stafford

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Other poems by William Stafford:

• A Ritual To Read To Each Other
• Across Kansas
• Allegiances
• Ask Me
• Atavism
• For My Young Friends Who Are Afraid
• Just Thinking
• Lit Instructor
• Notice What This Poem Is Not Doing
• Objector
• Remembering Mountain Men
• Security
• The Light By The Barn
• Thinking For Berky
• This Life
• Traveling Through The Dark
• Waking at 3 a.m.
• When I Met My Muse