We are only afraid
Whilst we are living
We are locked in a room
From which there is no escape
And the winter closes in;
A bird sings bravely
Against the numbing cold
A worm turns the earth, unseen
Whilst we rage against luck
Or lament missed opportunities;
In a hole in the mortar
A bee is burrowing
A tree branch, moss-greened
Waits patiently
More patiently than us;
We are only afraid
Whilst we are living -
The meadow-sop wets our feet
As we trudge through
To nowhere.