We find it charming, not alarming,
when children pretend.
The young boy child,
towel tied beneath his chin
and spread across small shoulders
waves an imaginary sword high
and suddenly feels bolder;
his power felt from head to toe,
ready to defeat any foe.
The young girl child,
Her American Girl doll in tow,
and dressed for the next chapter
she reads in her book which will show
how she can claim her place
in a world within her safe space.
It is a world of their own.
Children too often feel alone.
Childhood play is a godsend
when the acceptance of fear
is boldly met by playing pretend.
It does not stop at adulthood
when we need for ourselves to fend
and parents’ efforts subside
as children claim adult pride.
Adults, too, need a reprieve
from threats vaguely perceived.
The woman alone in her bed
seeking a strong chest
upon which to lay her head,
clutches her pillow instead
to lessen her dread.
She seeks a strong arm
to lessen her alarm.
The man alone on his couch,
in front of the TV, leaps from a crouch
and shouts with untamed glee
when the quarterback throws free
and the opponent is defeated,
the pass completed.
The victory becomes his own.
At every age we pretend
to overcome what we fear,
what we do not feel strong enough to overcome,
what we imagine might cause unknown harm,
what we cannot imagine we can handle alone.
We are never, really, fully grown.
We fear we shall always be denied
the connected love our hearts need most.
We pretend the pride which allows us to hide.
What if, we stopped pretending?
What if we reached out for community?
What if we sought requited love in unity?
We live in an age of pretend.
When and where will it end?
