Why The Fear

Everything we see are 

reminders of different points

of discourse,  

Where mirth hides anguish

Love hides pain behind dark veils, 

memories blinds moments.

And the thought of how it all end

seems like the new fear.

A man who in his youth, 

 watched the ocean stir,

when he paints, can not bear 

the journey anymore without breaking 

a bone in his back.

A young woman who looked for love

all her life, cannot recognize

what love looks like as she spills 

her last words.

The old man who still

plays the Cello, his fingers

Twitches as he pulls the strings

with faded smiles.

Let alone a classical writer

who used to punch the keys

with so much passion,

Can't even keep his words

which is now a stranger to him.

A woman whose audible prayers

can't keep up with the beads

Of her rosary, can only feel

the weight of her heart

because her lips can no 

longer utter even the barest words

of admonition.

And I am here

watching the stir of the pool of 

lives I encounter each day.

Because I don't choose which memories

to keep,

even if its the air I breathe.

So why the fear?

©Izogié