The Fear



The sun is high in the sky, hot, brooding and silent
With drums beating slowly, droning on and on
Dust is kicked up by boots bored with waiting
Air is still and stale, oppressive and heavy

The crowd is quiet with anticipation and lust
When will it happen and who will be selected
Suspense fills the air like a flower's fragrance
But bitter, sour, stale, dank and distasteful

My eyes move slowly from one face to another
No one is familiar and all eyes are full of fear
Panic is close to the surface causing chills
Curious how everyone looks the same

Why are my thoughts so jumbled and confused
What is it that we are all waiting for
How can we be released from this despair
Oh Yes. Now I know! Death is near!

D R Geske, June 20, 1999