I Am Not Alone: Prose Poem

Wednesday Prose Poem Prompt: the fear of the child

I must awake before sunrise — some part of the brain on hyperalert, even through the tendrils of sweet sleep — I must wake before anyone else — then I can finally feel the relief — the relief of not being alone in bed —

Is it just the malaise of an only child, I wonder — the solitude built into my DNA in a way that — I’m either running toward it or away from it — embracing it or shrinking away — always the duality, always —

Sometimes the fears strum up bizarre in the dark — and I get acutely conscious of the fear I am secretly harboring — the fear of abandonment — of waking up and seeing the other side of the bed vacant — of feeling solitude draped over me again like a blanket tossed oh-so casually —

So I must wake early — early enough that the light hasn’t contoured the edges of objects yet — but I can see the shape of the person sleeping next to me — even a visiting guest, here today and gone tomorrow — but just for this morning, I am not alone — I am not alone —

I am not alone.

Paroma Sen 2022

In response to J.D. Harms’ prompt: