You can handle this,
You can walk barefoot on broken glass,
run at life with an intensity,
that is far too much for me.
You do that too, all the time,
there you are right inside,
making observations, taking notes,
trying to make sense of it all.
But I can’t be a hero every day,
like you, living at the edge of crisis,
I don’t know quite how you do it
the very idea of it terrifies me.
Of course you can, besides,
it’s better than sitting in a cupboard,
flamethrower in hand,
threatening to burn the place down.
Look, they were just words, written
in anger, I didn’t mean it literally,
just a metaphor on a rocky shore,
a strategy to break monotony.
And you don’t think your exposure
terrifies me? Constantly
telling people about our vulnerability.
Words that slap and burn my cheeks.
Burn your cheeks! You walk on fire,
dispel fear and limiting beliefs,
surely you know how to bring relief
to burning cheeks, and wounded pride.
No! Not always, sometimes,
I just want to hide in the shadows,
leave secret thoughts to slumber,
and cover them in cobwebs.
But, I have seen you in your power,
standing before the fire, wild and raw,
so, what was all that training for
if you can’t handle a little exposure?
I am sure you will manage,
after all, it’s only a poem.