Tag: fear

Disruption

Absence of table
echoes in a room
reserved for its
central role –

I am at a loss,
no explanation
proceeding
this disappearance

have just woken
from a slumber
deep, to this hole
in certitude

grasp for answers
wonder at significance
if I’ve missed signals
question permanence

left with silliness
of chairs, the mockery
of dust – balled
fragments revealed

stand at kitchen counter
nibbling, dubious
unable to relax –
the table is gone.

 

There, There

I wrestle with sleep –
need overpowered by unease,
senses on high alert,
as if a child
trying to intuit
the degree of volatility
in father’s drunken slur

what will it take
to find rest,
to reassure
the littles
that the tyrant is gone

and life will unfold
as it will
without the stress
of constant monitoring.

On Snakes in Drawers

Moving on – it’s top priority,
sorting through the collected,
the unused, the forgotten –
ready to let it all go, but…

there’s a snake in the drawer
and the temptation is real –

to do the irrational, flee
in a panic, shoot the beast,
or set the house on fire –
I’m overcome with anxiety

there’s a snake in the drawer
and it sure is getting to me.

Practicality says this isn’t helping,
hasn’t got time for the drama, says
let it go, re-prioritize, focus on
what’s important, making progress

there’ a snake in the drawer,
and if it got in, it can get out

I’m terrified now, my skin crawling
with the certainty of confrontation –
the cold-bloodedness of a reptile
immobilizes me, and I’m certain

there’s a snake in the drawer,
and it will be the end of me.

Common sense directs me back
to the task at hand, uses distraction
to dissuade panic, promises to deal
with it tomorrow, tucks me in, but

there’s a snake in the drawer,
and I won’t sleep a wink, only…

I do, and in the morning light
it’s clear the snake didn’t make it
a lifeless body, coiled in death
revealing a harmless garter –

there’s a snake in the drawer,
dead now by my own negligence

an unfortunate serpent, lost
and afraid, misinterpreted
by a woman desperately trying
to move on, apparently still afraid.

(Day six of NaPoWriMo focuses on line breaks.  It’s not to late to join in
for National Poetry month.

Building on Uneven Ground

We are builders –
constructing isolation
with fortified walls
imagining security
in separation.

We are battlers –
projecting foes
in outer forces
ignoring the dangers
of faulty foundations.

How warped are the stories
on which we lay our floors;
how misguided our efforts?

We need level ground
on which to erect stability,
a balanced understanding
cemented in commitment,

a universal, master plan
motivated by communal
accessibility, developed
with careful consideration.

Alas, we are consumers –
trusting the blueprints
of those whose architectural
designs are self-serving.

What price will we pay
for residing in a house
dangerously slanted
towards destruction?

Inner Turmoil

Outlets, I have plenty,
for the excrement that accumulates
within these challenged walls

I soak and scrub, and
paint my cabinets yellow
hoping the optimism will sink in

will match the green of my smile
the expansiveness of my exterior
but the in-dwellers are provoked

question ego’s motivation
in selling off the residence
shaking their sedentary slumber

there was respite in disability
an imposed seclusion that calmed
the worries, invited complacency

who can rest in this motorized
uprooted reality, and what purpose
will evolve from the overflow

of emotions that flood, flashes
of insecurity, defying wisdom
threatening to cloud our sunshine?

Fear Like a Tarantula

Fear, like a tarantula,
descends on me, lands
on my sense of responsibility
I am unhinged, panicked

think only of casting it off
repulsed by its ugliness
its unbearable horror
its unnatural weight

and then I remember
that terror can be illusory
and tarantulas are fragile too
and I control my impulse

recognize that it is threat
that activates attack,
relax into the situation and
let the intrusion crawl away.

Daughters

You think we don’t know
what happens in the darkest hours;
that somehow slumber blankets,
plunges us into oblivion….

The same slamming of fists
that awakens you, alerts,
drags us from deepest sleep,
thrust into the violence

No amount of denial shields
from the trail of bloody droplets,
witnessing his arm on your throat,
threatening….always threatening…

we have risen to burning rubber
watched with the same submissive spite,
powerless to call for help, muted by
the futility of endless abuse, bystanders

cowered by a caregiver’s venomous spittle,
estranged witnesses,  marginalized,
held hostage by the choking reality
of an offending appendage.

(Image:  Pinterest)

 

Midnight Caller

Who is at my door,
at nighttime prowls?

Temporary is this stopover;
bravado attempting vision –

fear limits perspective
and I’ve been called –

what emergency exists
that sets my heart throbbing;

why is it so difficult to breathe?

Is it angel or devil that seeks
entrance, pierces the darkness;

I am present – would prefer sleep
(more clarity in dreaming), need

to devise a plan for safety, try
to connect, believe this intrusion

answers my aching, unyielding soul.

(Image:  nightmare-aisle.tmblr.com)