Timid child
become timid woman,
always afraid
ever to be,
to rise, to leap
to run, to play,
to sing and in singing
to cry and then to laugh
in joy.
I have measured out my life
in coffee spoons
and in thimbles
and in drips
and in tiny drops
too small to give
a taste.
When miles spread out
before me,
yet I choose inches.
When fathoms descend
below me,
yet I choose
the shallows
and stay within a touch
of the banks.
When vast skies
in glorious azure,
directionless and endless,
are revealed before me,
when I could dance on that cloud
and make it my pillow,
when in flight
I could soar,
and scream "I am,"
I choose rest
and safety.
I choose to exist
but not to be.
Measuring spoon by spoon
my timidity.
© Candice W. Coghill, November, 2011
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