Fear Series: Fear and Validity

So, am I aged?
Outside, the actions change, like the body,
But inside, things are not always so different.
Inside, it is still
“Am I real?  Is anyone out there?”

Communications are a huge validation.
I forget now and then
And slip back into sleepy dreams and haze
Are you there?
    --What are you?
Am I talking in my sleep?
Is someone dreaming me?

I have this drive to validate myself
By defining some aspect of myself and presenting it
To someone else
Wanting to see what will happen;
Hoping

Hoping the root hairs of understanding will find fertile ground
And a commons will be formed.
Are you there?
But I am afraid
Because I don’t know what you will do.
Maybe you will ignore me, annulling my validity.

So I sedate myself.  I watch the land
The land comforts me
Nature comforts with beauty
And dignity under persecution.
I watch the land
Her long beauty makes persecution seem almost a noble cross.
I have only been mentally abused
Wondering if I am real.
The land is being consumed.

I drive along looking at the way the corn pokes up through the snow.
I like it.
That dead yellow against the snow.
I like the dead corn.
It was planted, it grew, it got cut down and eaten,
And now the stalks are dead in the snow.

It is enduring.
Even though it is dead
It is still beautiful.
I drive along and watch the corn
All in rows that merge and converge and curve
And go marching off in dead straight rows.
Beyond the marching stalks are the fields of dead yellow grass
And the umber and deep dark brown trees, carpets of dead leaves at their feet.
I lose my fear when I am absorbed into the validity of the land.

Some folks can face all that harassment
And still grin back.
Not me.
I cry.
I implore God
I endure.
And then I die
Thousands of times
Which is why I hate it so much.