is not fear itself but ourselves. I am my own worst enemy – or maybe my mind is. It keeps me awake at night with a stream of thoughts and nightmares. It started when I was a child. Listening to adults talk or the news on the radio sparked so many fears of the unknown: horrific stories of what happened to friends and family in the Second World War; the Cold War gave me chills; the Vietnam War was thousands of miles away but it was there on the television in terrifying black and white. Later, I was afraid that I couldn’t keep my child safe. That I would let her down. She’s made it into adulthood. Now I fear for the grandchildren I don’t even have yet.
gnarled knots on branches
exploding with spring blossom
survival instinct
Kim M. Russell, 2017
My response to dVerse Poets Pub Haibun Monday:…
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