Dread
©July 6th, 2018
By Vijaya Sundaram
Thunder rumbled like a hungry stomach,
As my dog trembled on the bed,
Curled up beside my outstretched leg,
A fifty-pound package of existential dread.
I pressed my hands against her beating
Chest, whispered calmness into her frame.
The trembling ceased, then returned.
I did it, over and over, whispering love.
Would that someone could do this for me,
Do this for all of us, as our hearts beat faster,
With each day that approaches us.
There was a time, long ago, when days
Stretched like long rubber bands into each other,
But now, they just keep snapping, and
The discreteness of things belie
The connectedness of everything.
To stand on the edge of perception, seeing
Everything, seeing nothing, is to see
Childhood’s express go by like a vision
Within a dream that slips away, even
As I run towards it, willing it to stay.
Open to the skies, I await lightning, hear
Thunder in the distance, and notice
That a flash opened my eyes a long time ago.
Meanwhile, my dog’s trembling lessened,
And ceased, as the rain spent itself,
And the trees released their branches,
And the earth sent up her rain-fragrance.
I assuaged loneliness with coffee and a sweet,
Wasting time, as some inconsequential show
Unfolded its drama on a pixellated screen.
Someone’s probably watching mine, or not.
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