I know thee, Fear
You that stalks my halls like the sweetest of traitors
keeping me from my king,
(with most earnest and well meant intention) –
yet you look at me, as if offended that I should speak mention;
as if I forget myself,
as if I have broken some pact or some treaty
I did not sign;
am I supposed to be quiet? but I am too tired
not to speak.
Maybe I am incomplete
not yet, or not enough or weak
do not speak of days when I have not praise
but bitter tears
Yes, I am not brave.
But there are days
when I know that even though
I am the helpless fish
in your coarse hands
you will sometime grip too tightly
and I will slip
quickly, quietly –
– oh let this stream swift carry me away!
I know thee, Fear
though I would have you
be a stranger to me.
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