FEAR
The greater the loss that comes near,
The deeper the troughs of fear.
Arising with stealth, these fangs of apprehension
Grip one cell while exciting the other with tension.
Slowly spreads the contagion of fear,
And left with neither wit nor wisdom—
The tiny steps of doubt turning into a stampede of despair—
Our aliveness is damaged, and impossible to repair.
To face it, is to embrace it, is to release it.
BIRDS
I wonder at the birds—
Do they leave their trace on the tracks they fly,
Or do they simply go by?

