roaring, white water
churns with the golden soil
of my fears
Copyright 2019 Brenda Davis Harsham
Notes: Snowflakes are sparse this year, but the cold has seeped into my bones. The black ice got me as I left for work in the dark before Friday’s dawn. I’m stiff. And sore. And lamenting how much I took being able to move freely for granted. Sometimes everything I see becomes a metaphor for fear. The fear of falling. The fear of rejection. The fear of failure. But even if the roar is deafening, there is beauty in the passion of it, like the beauty of a waterfall.
6 thoughts on “The Roar”
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Friendly Fairy Tales 
i am brenda, hear me roar! don’t let the fear get you down, even if the black ice did. feel better
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I’m back to mostly-normal again. I can’t be kept down. 😉
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We have had a terrible winter. Lots of snow and so much ice. I’m so sorry you fell. Hope you feel better soon. It’s dangerous, no doubt about it. I hope all of your fears disappear soon.
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I will not let them bury me, at least. Fear means we are still alive.
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Very true
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No matter how we bury them, they swirl through the days with us. 🙂
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