Irrational Fears
Not born of sheltered privilege,
nor pearl abused by father, brother,
mustachioed hardened uncle,
or a mother pecked by a pelican
in her ninth month of bearing,
or borne by ghosts and grown
in rooms dark for lack of payment
for the light, or innocent delight
at warm and furry rats
jumping, playing games of tag
within the confines of her quilt,
but something, something left
a widget in her mind
of this: a very real and shaking fear
of melting in the rain
Thin of frame and dancing feet and
slick yellow duck-like wear
protected her till she, a modern maid
laughed and yet stayed wary,
but there comes a time when luck
runs thin and thinner
to a trickle and a stop and catches
all the fears and flicks the sun off
in a flash and taken by surprise
the clouds mumble, race about
and lost, they hover, fold,
and cry–
yes, cry
in all the horrible
treachery of rain.
What could she do?
but bravely stood and faced it
shuddering within its cold embrace
felt its lover’s hands urge,
stimulate and beckon her,
bring her up to meet it
in a whirlwind wet and free
joyously she embraced it
turned her face up to the source
laughed at conquered danger as
on her tongue she caught
the silver drops of life
with head thrown back
in wanton ecstacy.
How could she have known
the cruelness of the darkest dreams
was not in the acknowledged power
but that of which
she had not thought, and
ere she could fully recognize
the true and tempting adversary
of all the years of dreaming
she had drowned.
The Lost Children: A Charity Anthology