When you are a frightened child you
find your grownup and
tell them your fears
hand them your terror in a little box
for their keeping
giving you back the air to breathe and
they prepare clean sheet night for snarled minds to rest.
Children don’t realize that someday
they will be the Gatherer of Fears
while Soothing the Souls of ones
small in spirit or stature
taking their place in the procession of compassion
laundering the wear from fractious lives
maintaining restful clean sheet night for others.
How did I miss the teacher’s lesson alerting me of the age when
my pockets bulge with little fear boxes,
mirrors reflect the shadow-eyed grownup
shallow breathing as they seek help
to launder mind-snarls while ironing
clean sheets to cool their own fevered sleep.
“I’m frightened of this carousel, Papa. The horse looks at me sideways with wild eyes and the calliope sounds stridently shrill. When do we leave, Papa, and where will we go?”
About the Creator
Judey Kalchik
It's my time to find and use my voice.
Poetry, short stories, memories, and a lot of things I think and wish I'd known a long time ago.
You can also find me on Medium
And please follow me on Threads, too!
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