Hiding
by Odin Roark

Fear knows the chase,
the battleground,
nighttime,
daytime,
anytime,
eethe tricks
the game,
the quest to control.

How vulnerable a species we are,
so many places to hide,
making fear spawn fresh strategies,
more insidious ways to make us run…
from ourselves.

Like a recruit in a military program,
we start out innocent,
aware only of our childhood hide-and-seek fun,
where “Olly olly oxen free”
gave panic a return to freedom.

But, soon fear’s 2nd act curtain raises,
presenting our earlier setup
with adolescent crisis confrontation,
uncertainty promising bridgeless passage,
insecurity’s canyons in three dimension,
no longer a painted backdrop for a Lion King Kumbaya.

Life’s 3rd act challenges all the footsteps unseen,
threats unspoken,
odiferous aromas unidentified,
wandering through a final act
unwilling to end.

We sit complacent in our observation comfort,
thinking we can stave off this thing called fear,
knowing it has always visited us at any hour,
for any reason.

Yet…

Dread’s free agent,
this anxiety of trembling and diffident control,
this conquering anti-hero of our minds
makes us run, hide,
often disappear into our fictional quilt,
never to reveal vulnerability again,
never to be what so constitutes our humanness.

There are no curtain calls to enjoy in a fearful world,
as forfeiting innate frailty as a gift
disables the ability to applaud
the strength that is understood
as heroism’s truthful consequence.

When might we learn
the cyclic nature of growth and decay
is but the seasons of existence.

Perhaps FDR was right,
that statesman of renown:
“The only thing we have to fear
is fear itself.”

How lonely,
to never allow humanity’s natural trembling
to become the ripple of courage,
the spirit of determination.

Truth be told, patience is fear’s worst enemy,
for it knows “Olly olly oxen free” was never intended
only for children. We just made it so.