I, Too, Fear

I, Too, Fear

By Heidi Campbell

I go in the direction I’m told.

I try, in mere minutes,

To harness a lifetime of unbothered wandering.

I go the wrong way once; 

the eyes above the mask 

tell me 

I’ve erred.

But did they tell me? 

Or is that the delusion of a plagued mind? 


I go in the direction I’m told.

Eyes meet.

Eyes avert.

Eyes, once so seemingly suggestive,

now fail me with their distance and fear.

“It was never the eyes,” I whisper to myself. 


I go in the direction I’m told.

Does the elderly man know that I’m smiling at him?

Does the young, frazzled mother see compassion in my eyes?

I grasp reality:

my eyes cannot speak.

They are helpless without their supportive sisters:

the lips.


I go in the direction I’m told.

I touch something without thinking.

I wonder, “Do I dare put this back?”

I, too, fear.


I go in the direction I’m told.

“How long can I linger?” I wonder, 

looking at the fine print.

Eyes hustle me from behind.

I feel them,

imploring me to proceed.

I look back.

What do those eyes say without lips sharing the tidings?

Are they happy eyes? Angry eyes?

Flushed skin betrays my unease.


I go in the direction I’m told.

Craving expression, I realize

the new exchanges inspire insecurities.

Eyes stare at eyes.

Emptiness replaces community.


I go in the direction I’m told.

“I want the lips back,” I murmur.

They are the trumpets announcing kings.

They are security,


and kinship.

They require no interpretation.


I go in the direction I’m told.

I retreat to my world,  remove my mask.

With tired eyes, I sleep,

Haunted by empty eyes.


4 thoughts on “I, Too, Fear

  1. Message to a valiant friend…….
    The trail that doth grvw cold is but warmest upon rediscovery. For is it not true that only the valiant kings, and queens see the crown upon the gods. And so, forsaken light T’illuminate not tvo follow false path’s. Inherently dangerous do we seek community within my dim and dulled eyne lost.

    Yea, I be but a travelling sovl, a fool yea3, my armovr beat upon by wrath of extreame misery. Loss’s ha’ many there a been.

    I shall not follow. Only set illuminate a blaze of Virtue, morale by way of compass. Rest thyne forsaken light eyne, know it styl shines bryte more than goblets of gold anman without fear. None. Zero,to step hitherto lightly into thy’ne sovl to understand the cause of once miserable estate, sayd unto us, In faith thou art worthy to sustaine the most extreame misery and calamity, which hast defiled and maculated thyne owne presence lost only upon thy knee.

    1 kind word is but avarice to this poor fool. Inganiovs. Keep writing, keep up the good fight.
    I shall admire through deaf ear, blind eyne, full heart, preserve not malice nor hate, and protect the lasting repository of secrets beyond the labyrinth of illumination.
    Shake ye not the hand of serpent, nor falsehood.
    Be careful……..


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