skulks away and cowers
in his corner. Trembling, there is nothing
we can do to coax him out.
For some reason he’s scared.
He’s scared and we don’t know why.
There’s nothing we can do to tell him
that there’s nothing to be scared of.
We don’t speak his language.
What if we all are dogs like him,
huddled up in the corners of our lives?
What if the things we shrink from are akin
to whatever it is the dog fears?
So let us turn upwards, to the still
space above that holds us tight, tickles
behind our ears and if it could would tell
us we’re good, we’re loved, that everything
is all right.