Fear, I am writing you a five-lettered song
in no particular key with a blindfold on
I dared myself that I'd finish it in the mountains
not sitting here across from their gray beards.
I read that I need to confront you
hold you up to the light like a fraudulent banknote
but, fear, I don't know if that'll work for me.
Keep visiting me nights tho,
there must be a reason for you in my life.
The song is just this. It's you, circling me like a warning.
A refrain of five strenuous stars brighter than the rest –
when light's flavors begin to die on the tongue.
Either myself or someone who resembles me
struggles this evening under a tree's green paws riveted to death.
Until day i sit up to pray – no different to the rest,
buttoned down the middle -
but you bow deeply, a gun propped to your chest
feet first through the door, belly crawling and humble
before gods and snipers.
Could be I'm just as restless, waiting near a disguised pulpit,
tuning in and out of your undisguised calls
pretending to capture leaves, their color
a coward who reads up on fear, to preempt
what's already at home, stretched out, feet up

06/18/2007

Author's Note: An old journal entry, i decided to post it as a poem because these sorts of feelings still visit me.

Posted on 06/18/2007
Copyright © 2025 Shirin Swift