This Poem was Submitted By: Doug Shy On Date: 2001-11-01 01:46:18 . . . Click Here To Mail this Poem to a Friend!

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Old Men in Trees

There is much confusion about fear. It is a hard thing to describe. I've seldom seen its face. Three fingers on my left hand are the times I've stared back at it. You know the one about the two hikers and The Bear? Only have to run faster than you. Funny. Let me tell you a new one: One hiker, no Bear. Only have to run faster than myself. Funny. This is the seed of fear: No Bear. (How we would love to truly believe in such a world!) Our bodies are blind and lumbering machines. Smart, though they don't have quite the same faith in the ultimate goodness of the universe as our ministers or dry-cleaners. And so, No Bear sparks a bile-tinted synaptic storm and in our tremulous bones  No Bear becomes: No Bear right now. Bear, soon.        (Bears, more likely.) And there,  is fear. Can you imagine the eons gone and how many old and shivering men have huddled naked in a tree in the rain and clutched their decrepit ribs, dreaming about the warmth of the fire they'd abandoned when they heard that snuffling sound off in the darkness ? Only had to run faster than The Bear. If Bear. (Funny.) You might ask yourself if you have ever been in such a tree. And you might ask yourself if it is really better to be wet and cold than warm and dead.

Copyright © November 2001 Doug Shy


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