Fear

I am therefore
they point their rifles at me.
Out of their eyes and fingertips, I come gushing.
They toss me over the laborers’ drowsy eyes
and tired shoulders
then carry me in their passports
and biographies. Thus I wander with them
as they terrify children
and startle mothers from sleep at night.
You’re looking
straight into my eyes so that I may
dispatch teenagers to the army
and shape their future.
Here I am armed on street corners,
inside tanks, on the roofs,
staring into space,
omnipresent, constantly working,
dispossessing slumber from its lids,
causing panic, caprice, unintended murder.
Can you address me
with reason, without it all falling apart,
your adages, myths, and creeds?
I am the deliverer of illusory happiness
in solid societies: “See how busy the roads are”
says the taxi driver as he points at the radio.
“Business is booming,
industry’s growing, and we’re thirteenth
among the nations.”
I pat the driver on the back,
he’s trembling in the dark,
rummaging for the bliss of one
who has accepted
this is as good as it gets.
I am their master’s servant:
I lead them to obedience, to faith:
that his order is better
than the chaos that would terminate them.

As long as you stare into my eyes, I shall remain.
As long as you are another.
As long as you are eternal.