Doubt
By John Herlihy

I
Here comes doubt!
As shy as a boy scout,
And pretending to look stout,
It doesn’t shout.
Ashamed if anything, in a pout,
As it looks hesitatingly about
For an escape route in a rout.
We lift its tired head,
With a feeling of dread.
There is nothing on offer,
Just hesitation instead.
With no saving grace,
It doesn’t dare show its face.
We glance behind the veil;
The face is bland, as though for sale,
Newly arrived from beyond the pale.

II
Why, there he is
My old friend doubt,
Spreading across the face,
Growing at its own pace,
To brag to the human race,
With little to no grace.
Yes, a splash of color,
So as not to appear dour,
No sweetness, just sour,
Feigning a majestic power,
To take a stand hour by hour.
Call it the drinker’s rouge,
Like the glow of a red light,
Trying to impress everyone in sight
Becoming black and blue in the night
As certainty takes up the fight.
And puts doubt to flight.

III
Only its questions prevail,
Voiced with the deliberation of a snail
Looking old and frail
Just echoing in a deep pail.
Hope and promise on the fly,
Uncertainty is the reason why.
One step forward,
Two steps backward.
Let’s march onward,
Then fly upward,
Leaving doubt behind.
Where it can others find,
Who have nothing in mind,
And prefer to be blind,
When it comes to define
The salvation of mankind.