The Confrontation
My cowardly self, said to my bravest version:
Be not too much,
Be not too less of me.
His eyes were darkly silted ponds,
His hands worn thin,
By the clutch of a shrinking skin.
My courage rose up
Dragon fisted; eagle hammered in the
Shuddering air.
‘Dare me’ it cried
‘Dare this dust to be light,
This feathering of small gods
To step forward and take the terror’.
My cowardly image
Shivered, hid its face
But stayed there quaking
As the bravest version it could be.
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