| The following poem by Niveditha Shree from Vellakovil, Tamil Nadu was selected as a commendable mention in Wingword Poetry Prize 2020

“Spiders.”

“Spiders. Spiders” I tell you

You asked the question but you are not really looking

or listening

or even hearing.

“Spiders” I repeat once more.

“That’s what I am afraid of” I say a little more loudly.

A pat on the head.

A touch of indifference.

“Oh. It is going to be fine. Tiny creatures. Harmless.”

And I go back to watching the shadows of the leaves,

Dancing in the sunlight.

These spiders, just tiny monsters under my bed.

Did I forget to mention?

The monsters aren’t under my bed,

They are everywhere, every corner, every step

Waiting to pounce on me.

To rip me apart,

Until there is nothing left,

Except for a pile of bones.

We are so lost, aren’t we?

On this earth.

Lost.

Trapped.

Paralyzed.

What are you scared of?

You ask me again.

And I mentally go through my list,

Trying to pick the right one.

But what if I tell you,

That I am afraid,

Of everything,

Of melting ice caps,

Of dried rivers,

Of forest fires,

Of plastic filled oceans,

Of simple conversations,

Of soulless conversations,

Of no conversation.

What if I tell you?

That I am afraid of something beyond spiders,

Of the voices in my head,

That are desperately waiting to be heard,

What if I tell you, that I am

Afraid of it all coming to an end,

But it never really began,

Did it?

So when I tell you,

That I am afraid,

Of everything,

Are you going to pat my head,

And tell me that,

“It is going to be fine?”