When fear meets you at the edge



All you can do

is breathe

when fear meets you at the edge

can you do anything else?


you stand too close to the end,

looking down at the water

and think of all the events that preceded this

what were you thinking?


the hand is sweaty too

but it promises to hold you

and you look into the eye

that says this ain’t goodbye


but the heart is fluttering

and the fear is mounting

and the collective beauty of the woods

isn’t enough to console you


you can feel fear – swelling

from the guts to the gall

from the toe to the tips

its embedded deep within you


and then the breath gives away

and you know it-

in the stickiness of the hold

the heaviness of the gulp


its time – just do it,

tugs the hand

and thus you embrace

the fall


the seconds

in mid-air,

trembling, holding

gasping for air


gravity works and buoyancy thrusts

and you find yourself

reborn in the girdle of

the pond


all soaked

in the flowing melted ice


fetus like inward


fear free


into the wild

born out alive


breathing into

fear’s fiefdom

not completely

devoid of it



glad you


breathe with it. 



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