Fear Of The Dark

Not feeling much of anything;
my face hovers, detached,
no light from within it.

If I were to float back up — get up there again
where the sun shines hot and then
track with it around the planet,

I would surely shine. It wouldn’t matter
that it was not my own light. I recall 
the heat, remember what it was like.

Instead, I’m bobbing along down here
with a seared, dimmed face, loosed
from my moorings, trying to illuminate

this thick night with all I have,
though I can’t feel what good it will do.
Not feeling much of anything, in fact, 

beside fear of the dark.


About Tony Brown

A poet with a history in slam, lots of publications; my personal poetry and a little bit of daily life and opinions. Read the page called "About..." for the details. View all posts by Tony Brown

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