Swan is a poignant and compact poem that examines the dynamic between love and fear through a symbolic, almost fable-like lens. Inverting the familiar adage “love is blind,” the poet opens with a striking declaration: “It’s not love that’s blind, it’s fear.” This reversal sets the tone for a deeply empathetic reflection on the emotional and psychological immaturity of fear, and the redemptive, guiding presence of love.

The poem’s strength lies in its conceptual clarity and emotional subtlety. Fear is not demonised but personified as a young, undeveloped force—one that “has not yet learned how to recognise / It’s true self.” This choice to characterise fear as a being in the process of becoming rather than as an antagonist imbues the work with compassion and psychological insight. Love, in turn, is depicted as the mature counterpart, capable of recognising fear and looking upon it “with eyes of compassion.”

The central metaphor—fear’s potential to become “a beautiful Swan of love”—is both gentle and transformative. It evokes the archetype of the Ugly Duckling, reimagined here within a spiritual and emotional framework. The swan becomes a symbol of realised potential, a state that fear might attain once it surrenders its attachment to guilt and shame. The metaphor is understated but effective, capturing the poem’s message of inner evolution and self-acceptance.

Formally, the poem is written in free verse, with a natural, conversational rhythm. The short lines and enjambment give the poem a reflective tone, while the lack of punctuation enhances its flow, allowing thoughts and feelings to unfurl gently. This stylistic lightness supports the emotional nuance of the piece, mirroring the quiet patience love must extend toward fear.

One of the poem’s more affecting moments is the subtle critique of fear’s defence mechanisms: “fear will not let love get close / Instead preferring the companionship / Of guilt and shame.” These lines speak to emotional self-sabotage and the habitual patterns that prevent healing. The poet does not moralise here, but observes with a calm, knowing voice—highlighting the tragedy of fear’s isolation while still holding space for its eventual transformation.

In summary, Swan is a tender and psychologically astute meditation on emotional growth. It offers a clear and compassionate message: that love, by its very nature, seeks to embrace and heal fear, but can only do so when fear is ready to see itself differently. Through elegant metaphor and careful emotional pacing, the poet communicates a vision of transformation grounded not in confrontation, but in patient, unconditional acceptance.