The Other

A poem for the middle of the night

What lies awake in shadow? What sleeps beneath the stairs? What listens, perched in rafters So to catch you unawares? What tiptoes down the hallway, Barely making floorboards creak What lurks in bedroom corners Waiting for a chance to speak? And when the whisper rattles, Whose voice is it that you hear? Your own imagination, stirring Unacknowledged fears? Or maybe it’s an echo Of this place as it had been, Or calls from other realms Where the space between’s worn thin. The Other is unknown, and In uncertainty, fear hovers. Instead of hunting answers I’ll stay here, beneath my covers.