Mr Fear

Mr Fear

He follows us, he keeps track.

Each day his lists are longer.

Here, death, and here,

something like it.

Mr. Fear, we say in our dreams,

what do you have for me tonight?

And he looks through his sack,

his black sack of troubles.

Maybe he smiles when he finds

the right one. Maybe he’s sorry.

Tell me, Mr. Fear,

what must I carry

away from your dream.

Make it small, please.

Let it fit in my pocket,

let it fall through

the hole in my pocket.

Fear, let me have

a small brown bat

and a purse full of crickets

like the ones I heard

singing last night

out there in the stubbly field

before I slept, and met you.

                       

            —Lawrence Raab

Upon reading the title of this poem, “Mr Fear,” I thought that it had the potential to be light and comical because sometimes, learning of what other people are afraid of, is funny and also humbling. When I think about that, I’m reminded of the scene from Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban in which Professor Lupin teaches the students about the “Riddikulus” spell that turns fears into funny things (see video clip). One of my fears is walking into a room, flipping on the light switch, and no lights turn on. This happened to me the other day when I went to turn on the light in a room and the bulb flashed and burnt out; my heart was racing as I ran downstairs to be in the light and company of my dad. I still am not sure why this is such a big fear of mine but I do remember having nightmares about it when I was younger, I guess I could maybe thank the horror films that I’ve been incessantly exposed to on commercials/trailers for most of my life.

Moreover, this poem isn’t comical; rather it’s a little somber with a hint of angst and despair. I think this poem refers to the human nature to fear death. The speaker in this poem seems to maybe have accepted his impending doom but is fearful of the burden it will put on others. In the end, I think the speaker dies because the line “…before I slept, and met you,” references that the person being spoken to is death himself.

I liked the line “maybe he smiles when he finds the right one…” because it gave me the image of a skeletal hand digging through a black sack, much like Santa would dig through his sack of presents on Christmas Eve, however, the reactions upon receiving the gifts are much different. The speaker in this poem is understanding of the gift he must receive but isn’t willing to let the token control his life, he’d rather it be small enough that he can live with it to the point that it could slip out of a hole in his pocket as if it were never there.

I did also notice that the author, Lawrence Raab, repeats a few words throughout the stanzas; for example, “Maybe he smiles when he finds the right one. Maybe he’s sorry”; “Here, death, and here, something like it”; “Let it fit in my pocket, let it fall through the hole in my pocket.” I like the repetition because it added more emphasis on those words and gave a little bit of a rhythm to the poem as well. Another thing I noticed was that the speaker calls the man Mr. Fear, until the end where he calls the man Fear. I think it was almost like a plea at the end for Mr. Fear to treat the speaker more like an equal and allow him a small glimmer of hope before his doom.