Faith Qua Fear
In dreams, in night, in present or future dark edges
fear's invisible black eyes hold me proxy to each day.
I habitually walk on creaking hardwood checking
on the rhythmical breathing of my children sleeping.
in-between and unexamined,
untold specific branch
ransacks the dark aloof molecules
running rampant reverently
around the wee hours
of the still moving shadows—
hands and red licking fire,
water and screaming,
death's door thuds.
What does a human hold valuable? Empty restaurant tables? Permanence?
The status or the shrieking? The impecunious sphinx that is still rising?
Shades of sheltered pink emanate from behind fertile leaves, each burst of
sunlight wakes me to the morning that replaced my fears with a brave me.