Worry is an open wound
in the stomach-pit of your mind.
The ache may ease momentarily
but is never far behind.
You poke it and prod it
in morbid distress,
and when partly healed
pick scabs and bleed fresh.
Ignore the pain and continue your work
but suddenly stand glazed of eye
and frozen in panic as you see
parades of possible horrors pass by.
Tomorrow the wound may be healed and forgotten
and calmer days will follow,
but maybe the worst that you feared will come true
and leave your life empty and hollow.

HJ Aug 22/09