Fear of death goes
Fear of death goes unpunished,
invisible, if felt,
seldom processed through:
when baby screams to be fed
when you turn the last page of a book
when I cross the street, rather hastily,
when Love wears a new face, against all reason,
when child enters a dark room.
It lays its freezing paw on a hunted prey,
on domestic hen, feet up before slaughter,
on a bark, when the trunk cracks.
Indistinctly.
Yet living is the strongest emotion,
(and what if by nature it is vulnerable!)
a stride, rarely gracefully taken –
(we possibly overindulge monster time’s games) -
toward the place of (rusty) Memories
about our right to last by renewal…
where contained, though still untrained
is: Living fully,
as opposed to: I miss you Life already.
We can be hemmed in or we can face
Raw anxiety
By deciding to make the best of a rainy winter morning.
