Facing My Fear

Facing My Fear

Will you great me with open arms
or looks of apprehension,
regret,
hurt,
or, worst of all,
without emotion at all?
What will run through your head
as I run to you?
Do you feel a pit swirling within,
the reminder of a time
when all of this was so much simpler?
Do you feel the hesitation,
confusion,
pain,
and desire
that radiates from my breast?
Do you feel anything at all
for me now,
or have you locked away those feelings
in a place that I can never retrieve them?
Will words spill from your mouth,
a fountain of happiness and hope,
or will the dams remain shut,
cutting me off from the water
that keeps me alive?
I don't think I can go through
another drought
without my world
turning into a barren plain,
the crops I've tended to for so long
turning to dust and ash,
choking me with the vicious sting
of a bitter end.

I leave it to my fears
to sort out my future,
for what am I
but that which
frightens me most.


“Bran thought about it. 'Can a man still be brave if he's afraid?'
'That is the only time a man can be brave,' his father told him.” 
― George R. R. Martin, A Game of Thrones