A Fullness in Brevity – Adam Byatt

Today I heard fear. 
It whispered. 
It did not speak loudly with
a stinging sleight 
or a shouted accusation.
It whispered
like a door creaking in the wind.
The subtle background noise
skirting the edges of conversation
sweeping in on wisps of wind
slipping in between the silences
of background noise so cleverly filtered out
until the static idly coalesced and said,
“You cannot do this.
Do not dream or imagine.
It’s too hard.”
It’s only when I take up my pen
and write and bleed and weep
that the fear disappears.