Thursday, February 1, 2018

Primal Scream

When I was young
I was the second son, the smallest,
And found the only way
To handle fear, frustration, hurt
Was by screaming.

I got quite good at that,
Perhaps the loudest screamer
For blocks around;
And though I wasn’t proud
I didn’t give it up

Until I reached my teens
And my boy soprano voice
Transformed to baritone
And took a lot of time
In getting there.

The screaming had to stop;
And for sixty-seven years
I’ve coped with life
In less objectionable ways,
Eschewing decibels.

But now I’m old. Sweet reason
Starts to fail me when
My body falls apart
And each day becomes a trial
That tests my tolerance for pain.

I have begun to wonder
If my childish urge to scream
Was not the answer after all.

©2018 John I. Blair, 1/23/2018

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