The Depth of Fear

When the wispy willows wave and the voice calls from the grave, suddenly you're not so brave in your damp and darkened cave. Seeing things that cannot be, defying logic, totally, knees now feeling wobbly, tilting down toward syncope. Can you deny what you've just seen? Convince yourself it was a dream? What it meant, it didn't mean, so vile, it bordered on obscene. This memory must be kept inside; anyone would think you lied, words, you know, could not describe the depth of fear in which you hide. ©Danielle White