[Ann Drysdale]

Afraid of Days

I am afraid of the days when nothing happens
Because of the nights they end in. Here they wait,
The meannesses I thought I got away with,
The faces of the friends I disappointed,
The good impulses never followed-up.

I am afraid of the days when nothing happens
Because I know the night will answer back
And all the things I dread will come about,
Playing themselves to a not-quite-conclusion
Leaving me at the torn-off edge of grief.

I am afraid of the days when nothing happens
Because the door at the end of them creaks uneasily,
Swings in the wind of a thousand drowsing questions
Letting a little light through and then slamming,
Leaving the answers freaking in the dark.

I am afraid of the days when nothing happens
Because of the nights, the nights when it all does.