Fear

A poem by Jiji, a member of our Major course:

I perched on the grass, gloriously unseen,
Gazed over at a man whose tears have long run dry.
Every morn' he arrived; begged for the life that could have been,
Not a word escaped his lips, not a sound nor a sigh,
But it is his eyes that betrayed what he did not say,
The fire, the passion in his heart was out.
Any joyful emotion was held far at bay,
Anger and sorrow rejoiced and in delight they shouted.
For it was they who controlled the wrinkled old man,
I could see the stream running dry, the flame dying from within,
Away from acceptance he ran
Day by day defeat grew, knew he couldn't win.
Now he never leaves the tree, from thick twine he is suspended,
But each time I spread my wings and flee, I remember the old man whose life fear ended.