On Fear

Poetry by Omar Sabbagh
Photo by Lorraine Adeline

I turn off the light, but leave one on.
My daughter sleeps like an expert.
And now I walk the length and width of our flat
worrying about the future. In the corner
of the living room a few deft photos, framed
to gift them the excess they need, the staple glamour
we expect to be added to a passed reality.

We’ve a few new potted plants, too,
and they will grow according to the light offered them
and to the water our eyes gloss them with
and to the love we spend on them, speechless and green.
But one’s mind now meanders back to the truth
that one life can bear, sleeping, snug in dream.

I wish I could become a soft, white pillow
and that my life could be spent listening-in
to my girl, the hidden depths of the growing story
only she can tell: a tale formed to suture a father’s fears. 

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