Bridge
So I stand at the edge of this abyss
facing my fear.
The materials for the bridge to walk over the fear
lie in bundles at my feet.
I carefully place my toes at the edge of the cliff
and I realize
it’s dark down there.
And very deep.
All of a sudden I am afraid of making this bridge.
I’ve never made a bridge.
I don’t know how.
There are instructions.
Plenty of instructions
from teachers,
and therapists,
and motivational speakers,
and well-meaning friends.
I know where I want to end up,
but the individual steps are a bit garbled —
it’s like an Ikea bookcase.
The past beckons,
away from the abyss,
away from the bridge parts.
It is safe back there,
promises a steady paycheck,
and it makes my heart feel weighted with lead.
But across the abyss of fear
Dances the twinkling lights of my destiny
And my heart lifts
with the smile that sneaks on my face and
my eyes absorb the twinkling lights.
After one last longing glance at the steady paycheck,
I face the abyss,
Look at the piles surrounding my feet,
And wonder where I start.
