My Quiet Fear Of People
I was not always afraid of you—
When each street was only a road,
And faces were passing weather
That neither threatened nor glowed.
But time laid a frost on my spirit,
A chill that the sunlight missed;
Too many careless voices
Turned my kindness into fear.
Now every door has an echo,
Each greeting carries weight,
And the heart like a guarded sparrow
Still flutters behind my gate.
Yet somewhere the world remembers
The gentler breath of spring—
That not every hand is a shadow,
Nor every word a sting.
So softly the soul keeps watching,
Though quiet its courage seems—
For even the wounded spirit
Still shelters my smallest dreams.
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