When did I become so scared? by Anita Campbell
I'm trying to puzzle it out.
When was it that I began
to be so scared? Somehow or other
I'm suddenly frightened
of everything.
I'm scared of driving in strange towns,
of walking home in the dark, of being
in the underground when it's busy.
I'm frightened of flying, of taking off
Of giving wrong directions,
of getting lost.
I'm scared of bears and big dogs
Of making a fool of myself,
of being tongue-tied at parties
Or being ignored or being late.
I'm scared of getting sick
in my body or my mind
or going blind, or hurting someone
with what I say.
I'm scared for my children.
How they'll fare when I'm gone
I'm scared for my friends-
I don't want them to leave, or to die.
Most of all I'm scared of losing you.
I look at your chair and see
the outline of your head and shoulders
in the soft, well-worn cushions.
I'm scared when the chair is empty
And I don't know where you are.