Black Fear Keeps Me Living

At times I still fret
Over your whereabouts
Even when in town
An oblong fluttering
Tapping on glass walls of
Sanity and wellness
Fragile and see-through.

I want to be different
More settled into my own projects,
Busy being my own person
Delighted with
Resourceful ways of learning
And being.

So I gather up my reins,
Roll my shoulders back
And sit tall
To harness personal energy—
I seek work, execute events,
Cook dinner, do laundry,
Bake, write and
Try to listen intently
When my children talk
To engross myself,

I need to get there

But still…
In the back of my mind
I’m waiting.


While sipping hot tea
Alongside vegan
Oatmeal chocolate chip cookies
Packed dense with
Whole wheat flour and oats,
Yet, recently from the oven,
Are soft with supple warmness.


I have no interest in
Living through and
For anyone else.
Anger creeps.
A dank well out of which
Knotted gas wafts
Filtering the color
Of life’s appetite.

I hate myself for worrying
To this degree
And at times,
I wish we were both dead
So that both of our souls,

Equally tortured with
Twisted visions of
Wanting to be loved,
Striving be a Good person
Under the backdrop
Of needing approval from others,
Searching for safety, security
While determined to stay alive
And engaged as, at least,
A somewhat productive society member

Shot down from life’s sky,
Could finally crash
In a forced rest
And bleak peace.

But then,
Deadness is so final
Cold black
Coffin of nothing.
An afterlife?
That’s for another post.

To be dead means that
Children, the budding adults
They are becoming,
Out of necessity,
Would continue living
Will find career paths,
Have children of their own
Experience rich joys
And deep sorrows
A portion of which
I would have created.

Sister and parents,
My primary link to heritage,
Would grieve
While they too
Would proceed through life’s journey
Navigating through
Aging and health issues
And everything else
Without me.

The need to be included
In their futures,
The fear of being outside
Looking in from the sidelines
Behind death’s unforgiving barrier
As a faint and distant observer
Versus vibrant participant,
Left out from
Key people’s glass raising
During life’s monumental moments,

All moving on without me,

Keeps my will to live fueled
Impressing upon me to
Use my limited time well while
Living on this planet
By finding and seeing joy
And meaning
In fractured minutes.



One thought on “Black Fear Keeps Me Living

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