Fear

Do you know how it is like?
It is like walking over treackle.

And yet, I know freedom;
running under the trees in a bright icy morning,
swimming in warm waters, the sun above,
listening to old stories of love and war,
entangling my body with another,
like my ancestors did,
like the children of my children will do.

I have dreamed it enough,
I could taste it, feel it, smell it, touch it.

But not, I see the trees, but they do not see me.
I taste the sea water, but it doesn't hold me.
I hear the stories, but the teller does not know I am there.
My body entangles with another, but I am fully dressed.

My life, my friend,
was like walking over treackle.