Fear

This was written about my mother, who is very ill. It can be scary to take care of her.

Fear is a pale-faced zombie,
the kind that is there,
not actively reaching for you,
but impossible to ignore.
Her face has no age
as she is caught
between Time's impersonal ends.
Her beginning and her future
blend into semi-existence,
an indeterminable form.
Her hollow face and
sunken eyes
follow you or stare
through you.
Where is her mind?
You try to get closer,
to draw her into
a pool of radiant colors,
but she is rooted
and her roots are fossils.