Tag: fear

Let life insist on being lived

Published on by Maciej ModzelewskiLeave a comment

Let life insist on being lived—not out of solidarity, of course, but as a reminder of the youth
you once held dear, like any other souvenir that has temporarily come into your possession,
except, perhaps, for acne or all the juvenile plumage you resented for so long back then
and now quietly pretend it was actually inconsequential—in fact, it never really happened,
you tell yourself—which, even though it’s an acquired habit, has become second nature to you,
just like the fear that one day you will wake up in the middle of the night and simply forget
to be afraid.

Undelivered peace of mind

Published on by Maciej ModzelewskiLeave a comment

A thousand miles is a mere few hours on a plane,
and even by car, though almost double the distance,
it would still be just a day-long journey—not the weeks
our ancestors had to endure—and there are no dangerous
wild animals or bandits lurking along the way.
The worst that could happen is a delayed or cancelled flight.
And yet, I can’t help but worry—trembling with fear even
—when the message on my mobile, asking if you’ve arrived yet,
shows as undelivered longer than expected.

A watercolor painting with a surreal man sitting at a screen displaying a woman

A one-night stand

Published on by Maciej Modzelewski1 Comment

Everyone has a need to matter, even if only for a little while,
and sometimes we can be oddly specific,
like when you mentioned a certain Morris Minor
parked on the corner of King Street and Merkland Road
while asking if I would look at you again in the morning.
Then you turned off the bedside lamp, so I couldn’t see you
wondering if this would sound different in French or Pirahã.
I guess melancholia is the word, but only if neither of us
is bold enough to point out the fact that we are both twisting
the meaning of repentance. Perhaps it’s not so much regret
for what we’ve done, or even fear of what might happen to us
because of it, as an attempt to feel something, anything
—anything at all.

pencil sketch showing a profile portrait of a middle-aged man looking at the sky

Apart

Published on by Maciej Modzelewski1 Comment

I only chop onions when I’m blue, and it’s not a rainy day
to go for a walk without an umbrella. I am a man, after all,
even if no one expects me to keep up appearances anymore.
And I suppose belief in constellations was a hallmark of youth
until one night we looked up at the northern sky and realised
that even the closest stars were light years apart—without fear.

impressionistic oil painting of a landscape with a sky full of clouds

Journal (On your own)

Published on by Maciej Modzelewski1 Comment

There is only so much you can do on your own. You see clouds as white until someone puts a pure white shroud in front of your eyes, and only then do you realise how blind you have been all this time. So you decide to follow them, to learn from the master about the sky in fire and the earth in the grip of ice, only to learn that all you can get is discomfort sold as fear—everything else you have to do on your own.