When did I become so scared? by Anita Campbell

I'm trying to puzzle it out.

When was it that I began

to be so scared? Somehow or other

I'm suddenly frightened

of everything.

I'm scared of driving in strange towns,

of walking home in the dark, of being

in the underground when it's busy.

I'm frightened of flying, of taking off

Of giving wrong directions,

of getting lost.

I'm scared of bears and big dogs

Of making a fool of myself,

of being tongue-tied at parties

Or being ignored or being late.

I'm scared of getting sick

in my body or my mind

or going blind, or hurting someone

with what I say.

I'm scared for my children.

How they'll fare when I'm gone

I'm scared for my friends-

I don't want them to leave, or to die.

Most of all I'm scared of losing you.

I look at your chair and see

the outline of your head and shoulders

in the soft, well-worn cushions.

I'm scared when the chair is empty

And I don't know where you are.