Fear is like a substance
To my once drug-addled mind,
When captured beneath its shadow,
I resent even the sun’s shine.
In the light of any catastrophe,
My thoughts are frightening and wild,
Tranquil expressions are now blasphemy,
Every good memory stands defiled.
Recollecting scriptures and muttering prayers,
Seeing the sullen stillness my spirit fully bears,
And I sit, counting the lengths of each breath,
When Religion sits down, as does Death.
When my last worldly hope finally gives in,
My soul cries out for my Provider,
With shaking hands and a lowered chin,
I wait for Jesus, like a house on fire.
In panic, peace is forgone and not enjoyed,
Grace is remembered, but not employed.