Ribbons of Fear

They’re here, again.

Moving swiftly, silently,

in the space of my mind.

They came when I was a child.

In the form of dolls and bears

with ribbons in their hair.

Staring, whispering, judging, everything.

Come and play, they would say.

Be one of us, belong to us.

Sitting on my shelf, imperious, 

quiet but not asleep, watching, waiting,

for one small chance, to slip into my skin.

“Go away!” I commanded, and they did,

but I knew it wouldn’t last.

No place left to run.

Gone now is my peace, or loneliness;

aren’t they the same?

No, says the bear, with ribbons in her hair.