Saturday, October 17, 2009

Without Fear

17 October 2009

My eyes are open today. I see
how fruitless are the hours spent worrying
about a form and substance you adore.
These conversations never cease behind the eyes,
laughing or weeping. They never cease.
I hear the fretting accusations,
the whispers of starvation. I hear them,
but they grow quieter with time. Or perhaps
I build a wall inside my head, beyond which
their power diminishes--
I am, without fear, who I am.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

"Without Fear" kinda of connected with me as i read it. Its so true that whispers grow quieter with time and insignificant too. Its power just fades and though you remember it...there's no emotion attached to it.

Good write.

George MacDonald

"Home is ever so far away in the palm of your hand, and how to get there it is of no use to tell you. But you will get there; you must get there; you have to get there. Everybody who is not at home, has to go home."

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