I worry about everything
that’s wrong with me.
Doctors say I’m a hypochondriac
afraid of my shadow.
I asked God for a second opinion.
He hasn’t returned my calls.
This is freedom. To chase the wind
through a house that rattles.
Before I was born I knew everything
about freedom without the burden
of being free. I studied the Bible
in silence. Time kept its distance.
Now I live in a house divided.
Who am I to question God,
who looks down on me,
says be fruitful and multiply?
Doctors measure the weight
of my shadow, a healthy adult,
they say. Take a deep breath.
Be fruitful. Multiple your shadow.
My mind isn’t the wind
but the house that rattles.
Charles B. Snoad 