I have paper I use my hands to grind
Under my pen throughout the long dark
night
In the dull scratching there is meaning to find.

I have gazed out the window- down the street
I do not step out into the soft cool dark
I do not trust the dull ache of my feet.

I have heard the world when it is faint
Soft trilling birds and sharp thundering wind
Sensing a strange dull fear with a dark taint.

I have gone out there- I will go out there
Into the fear for myself and for others
The dull pain it brings is stored somewhere.

But I know there’s always more to do
There are ever more painful things to feel
And I have many dull days- dark days- to rue

Sitting by the door so close to outside.
I have too much fear of the other side.