If I couldn’t
Be relied upon
I would still
Try to stand strong
And if I fell
And those who are my kith and kin
Let me fall, rudderless
I believe I would still
Try to stand once more
This attending effort was not
Born to me
I was a slothful child
Idolent in summertime, slow to come home
Engrossed in the token more than press of life
Missing meaning within magpie’s shiny locket
I may blame a lack of moral structure
But it was ever my way to remain hollow, we are vessels of sound
The rod or the wild, we choose in our forming
I chose the willow path overgrown by neglect
You, it was you, years hence
Bending with an acrobats supple spine
Taught me purpose and value from your own pain
Late and much too past, still never entirely lost
On even the laziest soul, truth can take hold
I thought I knew truth
Until I learned to listen truly
I thought I knew loyalty
Until I witnessed real mercy
It was as if I had ever not, known a thing
And wiped clear of experience
Began anew, shivering in dawn without wrapping
I couldn’t see then, the other shore 
Or how
Waves are measured in metric pulse, known to moon 
I walked among prophets blind
And only saw my own, sorry reflection
I bled and believed myself insightful
When the blood was void of rust
You see, it takes rhat meterlurgic alchemy
To disipher ourselves and then, once seeing, cross that wasteland
I believed my intuition when I only saw shadows
No crucible of real direction I walked without legs, on the back of dry twigs
Until, woven with deception, snap, the pasture denied me 
Even the position of desicated scarecrow
For I was just an approximate, empty inside, tredding fallow
Without hunger or thirst, nourishment naught
Nobody to stand as sign post
If I couldn’t
Get up from my knees, though they were made of lead
And discover the dream, still in embryonic state 
That has been here all along, put away, almost forgotten
For we are, born to dream
Not to linger in collapse but
Leap graceful without weight
The chains imposed, released to fall
Cleanly from their imprisonment
Shackles are no natural state, prisoners of ourselves
Each of us has, a measurement of myth
Wings to fly and imagine if
We let go of shame and doubt
Those habits cast around us in woe
Lift, lift, oh that we could
Find the fabric beneath the world
And swim in unisen to its music
If I couldn’t 
I would not still be here
Trying to prove we are always
More than we fear

35 Replies to “More than we fear”

  1. Fear is a hard habit to break. *shrugs* Most times, it’s quite easier to deal with than the alternative of being brave.
    “Shackles are no natural state, prisoners of ourselves
    Each of us has, a measurement of myth
    Wings to fly and imagine if
    We let go of shame and doubt
    Those habits cast around us in woe”
    I think you do an excellent job of depicting fear, letting go and loose of shackles that bind and trap, and then being brave enough to move on and be what one needs to be in order to survive.
    Not always easy, but most times necessary.

  2. Death of the self we knew, rebirth and discovery of another version, tripping over ourselves as toddlers do, becoming something new this time around, only the lingering memory of the lost to guide the way, in search of a solid foundation on which to rebuild <3

  3. You’re welcome. No thanks needed. You do what you do best, Candice. *nods* Be good to you. Be especially good to you.

  4. I think we are capable of so much more than we give ourselves credit for until push comes to shove. And you would know this intimately πŸ™‚

  5. I still remember rediscovering the joy of walking after months of leg injury recovery. It has been a guide for me ever since.
    My best to you!

  6. Profoundly & so honestly expressed. Sometimes we don’t realize the strength & fortitude we truly have until we need to call upon it. And remember you are never alone in this fight. <3

  7. Just amazing, triumphant writing, Candice, with multiple levels of imagery, memories, and experience. Those last seven lines are so filled with bouyancy, upliftment, that brought it all together into one astounding poem. Wish I could write like that! Beautiful, Candice. β€οΈπŸ’•

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