Classic and Contemporary Poetry: Explained

David Lehman’s "Fear" is a meditation on childhood anxiety, escapism, and the way time loops within memory. The poem unfolds like a fable, with a young boy hiding under a house as a means of both seeking protection and exerting control over a world that seems uncertain or threatening. His only companions are his dog, his red lunch box, and his fear—three objects that seem mundane yet symbolically charged.

The opening lines establish a child's perspective: "The boy hid under the house / With his dog, his red lunch box, and his fear / Thinking God is near." The syntax is deceptively simple, mirroring the child's thought process. The juxtaposition of tangible objects (dog, lunch box) with an abstract concept (fear) suggests that fear is as real and present as anything else in his world. The mention of God introduces the idea of an omnipresent but possibly distant or indifferent force—one that may provide comfort but does not intervene.

The boy’s hiding has a ritualistic quality: "Thinking It’s time to leave the things that mean / Just one thing, though you can't tell what that is, / Like God or death." This suggests that, even as a child, he is grappling with profound existential uncertainties. The phrase "things that mean just one thing" implies a yearning for clarity—something absolute in a world that feels unpredictable. Yet the inability to articulate exactly what that meaning is underscores the confusion of both childhood and adulthood. The mention of "God or death" connects the poem to broader philosophical concerns, making fear not just a personal experience but a universal one.

The boy's actions take on a paradoxical nature: "Thinking No one will find me here— / But only when his parents were watching." His hiding is performative; it only holds meaning when there is an audience. This is a deeply psychological insight—children (and adults) often want both invisibility and attention, safety and discovery. However, when "they weren’t, he slipped away / And hid under the house / And stayed there all night, and through the next day." Here, the hiding becomes real, not just a game or a test of parental concern, but a true retreat from the world.

Then, the poem takes a surreal and temporal shift: "Until Father (who had died that December) / Agreed to come home, and Mother was twenty / Years younger again, and pregnant with her / Darling son." This suggests that, under the house, the boy enters a liminal space where time collapses. He is not just hiding from the present but attempting to return to a past where his father is still alive and his mother is young and expectant. This moment of magical thinking reflects the way children often believe that their actions—especially rituals of hiding or waiting—can reverse fate. The fact that the father "agreed to come home" implies that the boy sees his absence (and possibly even his death) as something negotiable, something that might be undone if only he waits long enough.

The imagery of time folding into itself continues: "He could see it all, past and future, / The deep blue past, the black-and-white future." The past is given the color of vastness and memory ("deep blue"), while the future is stripped of vibrancy ("black-and-white"), as if the only real, living thing is what has already happened. The idea of the past as vivid and the future as flat or predetermined is a reversal of how time is conventionally perceived, emphasizing the way loss reshapes one's relationship with time.

Yet, ultimately, the spell is broken: "Until he closed his eyes and made it disappear, / And everyone was glad when he returned / To the dinner table, a grown man / With wire-rim glasses and neatly combed hair." The boy emerges from his hiding place, but it is as if he has traveled through time and returned as an adult. The dinner table acts as a marker of normalcy, of family unity, yet the transformation suggests that the boy's experience under the house—his fear, his longing, his wish to control time—has defined his life, shaping him into the adult he has become. The wire-rim glasses and neatly combed hair suggest order, discipline, and conformity, as if he has successfully integrated into the world, but there remains a lingering question: has he truly left the hiding place, or does he carry it with him?

The poem's final revelation is quiet yet profound: "Fear was the name of his dog, a German shepherd." This closing line reframes the entire poem. At first, "fear" seemed abstract, an internal state, but now it is externalized, given a name and a tangible form. Yet, even with this clarity, the ambiguity remains: did the boy name his dog Fear because it was his companion in hiding? Or does the dog symbolize the fear itself—something both protective and menacing, always present, shaping his actions? A German shepherd is a loyal guardian but also a creature bred for protection, reinforcing the dual nature of fear as both a safeguard and a burden.

Structurally, the poem flows in a single, unbroken movement, much like memory itself—blending past and present without clear demarcations. The language is simple and unadorned, yet the ideas it contains are layered with psychological depth. The lack of punctuation in key moments ("Until he closed his eyes and made it disappear, / And everyone was glad when he returned") creates a seamless transition between the surreal and the ordinary, mirroring the way memory and reality blur together.

"Fear" is ultimately about childhood attempts to control loss, the way time folds in on itself, and how fear—whether as an emotion, a protective instinct, or even a named companion—shapes identity. The act of hiding under the house is not just about seeking safety but about trying to bend reality to one's will, to make the dead return, to prevent inevitable change. Yet, in the end, time moves forward, and the boy—now a man—emerges, still marked by the fear that once sheltered him.

Copyright (c) 2025 PoetryExplorer

Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!

Other Poems of Interest...