The Fear to Start

You don’t have to see the whole staircase, just take the first step .— Martin Luther King

Photo by Alexis Antoine on Unsplash

I gazed across the city, waiting for the sun to rise,

Anticipation leapt within me, pulsing with fretful sighs.

When would the skyline burst in dawn’s rapturous hue?

I lingered alone, sheltering my commitments from judgement’s view.

For the morning was not about time, it was a kind of ‘walking away,’

I cast my eyes askance, knowing obligation filled my day.

Could I but change, vanquish the thought that led me to hesitate,

Then surely my heart would thunder forth, unfettered, eager to create.

But stillness consumes me and shrivels my intent with fear.

Could I risk to sully all the treasures I hold so dear?

What are these trinkets I guard in pompous, false pretense

They laugh back at me, derogatory, they’re my ego’s own defense.

The distant morning church bell chimes, startling birds to flutter and dart

So too my excuses swell, prying once good intentions to drift apart.

I would I could launch through the skies, bird-like, with each twist and turn

But I am marooned, before the sunrise, where my thoughts boil and churn.

No, it is but one step, I unfurl my pen and beg the dawn… allow me to create

I thunder forward expectant, newborn, never again to hesitate.