I WASN’T REALLY SCARED

Much peace. For Day 8 of National Poetry Writing Month, the prompt is:

In your poem for today, use a simple phrase repeatedly, and then make statements that invert or contradict that phrase.

Here is my poem:

I WASN’T REALLY SCARED

By Farah Lawal Harris, 2026

I wasn’t really scared—

I was simply searching for the stainless steel tweezers

to extract thirty-three cotton balls stuck in my throat.

I was searching for a butter knife

to spread the jelly my legs became

and the bread that represents

the body which was broken.

I was broken, but

I wasn’t really scared—

just trying a new type of cardio

involving not moving the body at all,

not fight or flight,

but freeze and fawn;

just experimenting to ensure

my phone could still complete

emergency calls. That’s all.

But I wasn’t really scared.

I swear I stood

ten scarred scarlet toes down

to the ground,

allowed the cries of my Ancestors to

touch my soles through copper clay,

answered “Great” to “How are you doing today?”

sang Latifah’s “Just Another Day”

interrupted by Doechii’s “Anxiety”

interrupted by white supremacy—

Ooo-wee! There goes that cotton again.

But I wasn’t really scared.

I was anything but, anything but

right here where queer and

Black and woman born-Muslim

intersects with fear.

I Simba laughed in the face of danger!

I’m not lyin. I am not jo-king.

I am a Queen

holding a bare hand in front

of the barrel of a shotgun.

Didn’t you hear?

The woman in front of the gun

lives forever.

How could I ever be scared?