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.