The Gnawing Need
Most of the time the flag could be waved,
The positive, polite phrases spotted,
Dogma adhered to…
Marching rank in file…
But in those quiet times,
Alone,
Questions would challenge…
Taunt and trouble
The well-fixed smiles
And assurances.
Damn!
Why couldn’t everything be sure?
Why must everything have more sides than one?
Deny the doubts, the fears,
The “other” facts…
But does it help the sleep at night?
No.
Damn again!!
Some people can drown the churning
In drink, drugs or other poison…
But why must it be
Anguish
To think
And to feel?
To need to know.
© Copyright, Daphne Yvonne Bradshaw, 2000.
All rights reserved.
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