Stepping onto stones
to ford a stream
you would not dream
of crossing, stoneless,
all alone. . .

Bravely, then, you do proceed,
although they are not firmly cobbled,
and some slip, are mossy;
others wobble,
which makes you want to turn around,
tail tucked between your legs,
and scurry back on home.

The water seems to rush,
the grassy parts around the banks
yield to your step,
a muddy mess,
and sometimes seep or gush. . .

You feel,
no matter what the bravery
you’ve worked long
in your heart and mind
and limbs quite strong
to instill,
a tingling chill
of fear,

The old bank
holds so much you know,
passing from it
makes you tremor just a bit
and shed a little tear,

Your teeth you grit,
determined, angry
is your marching song–
for you know it was
oh so wrong
you even ever had to be there,

There is a gripping in your neck,
for there’s no knowing
what comes next,
although your vision of the future,
the one you choose to nurture,
grows ever much more bright and clear,

And so, now,
you must call upon
your every nerve
and muscle fiber
and flesh-bone curve
that’s been bestowed on you
and’s kept you thus far alive here,

to plunge into the waters
streaming through
the home-court-hugging river banks
into a sea of change,

but the leap’s
a dare you dared you to,
and for that, yourself you thank,
for, in your soul so deep and true,
you feel it must be right,
although what will be left to you
could no way be more strange.

This entry was posted in Poetic Musing (Longer Poems), Poetry and tagged , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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